Words We Never Say
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: XMFC AU. Sequel to "My Father's Daughter." Takes place six months after the story. Charles and Moira struggle to pull their marriage through rocky ground while the rest of the X-men recover from the fight with Black Tom. However, for some, the effects of the fight ran much deeper and the consequences reached much further.
1. Chapter 1

August 2, 1974

"Are you sure that you're alright?"

Carly laughed as Hank helped her into a chair. Her former blind-seeing eye dog Penny wagged her tail before she settled her chin on Carly's knee. Carly smiled and petted her. She looked a little nauseous and Moira could see that she was slightly off-balance. Her swollen stomach was making it difficult for her to move as she always had.

Moira could remember when she was nine months pregnant with David. She'd started having headaches nearly every day. There was one day where she had just stayed in bed all day, feeling far too ill to get up. Charles had sat by her for most of it, his thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand and his soft murmurings comforting her.

She shook her head and looked back at Carly and Hank. It appeared that Carly's pregnancy had progressed along more normal lines. She could see the concern etched in Hank's face though. Moira had the feeling that he was worried, but she didn't know just why he was worried. As far as she could see Carly had gotten through her pregnancy with minimal morning sickness. She seemed to be coping pretty well, but it was rare to see her without Hank by her side.

Carly had come to Westchester when Hank had gone to assist the X-men. Hank had returned safely and within a matter of days. They all had, and Moira couldn't help but relieved. She felt relieved every time they came back, just as she felt a sense of foreboding each time that they went out. It hadn't lessened since they had gone to Cuba when they were fifteen, and that was over ten years ago.

Moira had expected Carly to leave after Hank had returned, but she hadn't. Instead she had become a resident of the school. Hank had stayed as well, declining to return to Rhode Island to continue to work on his blossoming political career. He chose instead to conduct business from one of the extra offices at the school.

His actions had puzzled Moira, but she hadn't objected. They were family, and it was t an automatic response to help them. She knew that they intended to stay over the summer, and that was an added bonus. The more people in the school over the summer, the more things going on, the better. It was easier not to think when there were things going on.

"I'm fine Hank," Carly said.

She put her hands on her stomach.

"Our little girl is just excited to see everyone," she said.

Hank smiled, but Moira could see how worried he was. She frowned.

"Mama!"

She looked down. David was tugging on her pant leg. It was almost time for bed, so he was in his pajamas, but she knew that he would remember their nightly ritual. Moira smiled and crouched by him. He held a book of fairytales in his hands, his eyes hopeful. It was a winning look, and he knew it.

"Story mama?" he asked.

She smiled and picked him up. He laughed as Moira balanced him on her lap.

"Daddy?" he asked.

Moira felt her heart clench painfully. She stroked the auburn hair that had started to grow in locks around his face.

"He's…busy," she said.

The words felt like poison on her tongue. David's face fell and Moira forced a smile on her face. She opened the book and balanced it on her lap.

"What story do you want?"

He yanked through several pages, his eyes looking for the brightest illustration. Moira looked up and saw that Carly was looking at her with excitement, no doubt anticipating reading to her daughter. Hank was still looking worried, and she figured that she would have to talk to him later.

"Mama!"

She looked down. David was pointing enthusiastically to a picture of a beanstalk stretching into the sky.

"Jack and the Beanstalk," Moira said.

David nodded. She laughed and hugged him closer.

"Okay," she said, "Let's see here."

Her eyes scanned the text.

"Once upon a time-" she began.

She was cut off by a crash from the side door. Terry ran into the room, covered in flour and laughing. Sean followed her, a grin stretched across his face.

"Get back here!" he called.

"Nope!" Terry said.

She climbed onto one of the sofas. Moira winced as she saw that the little girl's feet were covered with flour too, leaving white footprints. Sean ran up and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder. He twirled her around once before looking around the room. His expression was slightly dazed. Moira wondered if he'd just noticed all the different people in the room.

"Oh, hi," he said.

Terry laughed from her position over his shoulder. She kicked once, but Moira could tell that it was all in play. As the months had passed Terry's bruises had healed and she had begun to cling to her newfound father. For his part Sean had hardly let her out of his sight. When Interpol had called him and asked him when he'd be ready for a mission he'd handed them his resignation.

He'd come back to work at the school, finally filling in the position that had been created for him when he was eighteen. As such he and Terry had spent their first months as father and daughter in Westchester. She thought that, one day, Sean would move on, just as he had moved on before. For now though, he was back at Westchester.

"Story," David said, clearly upset.

Sean peered over at the book, Terry still over his shoulder. Moira wondered just how much pain it was putting his newly-healed ribs through to do so, but she knew that no one would be able to convince him to take it easy. Not when it came to the daughter who had come into his life by some miracle.

"Whatcha reading?" he asked.

"Jack and the Beanstalk," Moira said.

"Oooh! I love that one," Terry said.

Sean hauled her off his shoulder and put her on the ground.

"Now there's still a mess in the kitchen," he said.

Terry folded her hands behind her back and looked down.

"But we can clean it up later," he said, "Don't do it again though, got it?"

"Got it," Terry said.

Sean sat down and Terry sat next to him. Moira looked over at David.

"We've got a bit of an audience now," she said.

"Story," he said.

"I got it, I got it," Moira laughed.

She cleared her throat and looked at the page.

"Once upon a time there lived a poor widow who had an only son named Jack," Moira read, "She was very poor, for times had been hard, and Jack was too young to work. Almost all the furniture of the little cottage had been sold to buy bread, until at last there was nothing left worth selling."

David snuggled into her and Moira continued reading. She remembered when her parents would read her fairytales when she was a little girl. She had hoped to have children when she was older and read to them in turn. Moira had imagined a big family, two children at least, but it turned out that life had other plans for her. David was a gift that had come out of nowhere and she knew she was blessed for having him.

Across from her she could see Hank's expression soften slightly as Carly leaned onto his shoulder. Some of the tension was leaving, and she was glad for that.

"The giant began to climb down too; but as soon as Jack saw him coming, he called out: 'Mother, bring me an axe!'" Moira said.

She saw that Alex had come into the room, no doubt to talk to Sean about something that had happened with the Danger Room. Several of the X-men had stayed behind to train over the summer. Saving the world didn't let out for terms. Only Warren had had to go back to allay any suspicions that his father had about the school.

He stopped in the doorway though. Moira could see him roll his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

"And the widow hurried out with a chopper. Jack had no sooner reached the ground than he cut the bean-stalk right in two," Moira read, "Down came the giant with a terrible crash, and that, you may be sure, was the end of him. What became of the giantess and the castle nobody knows. But Jack and his mother grew very rich, and lived happy ever after."

David sighed. Moira saw that he had fallen asleep. She picked him up, the book tucked beneath her arm. Sean helped Terry up too.

"Let's go clean up the kitchen," he said.

Terry nodded. Moira balanced David and walked towards the door that Alex was leaning in. He tilted his head.

"Sweet story," he said, "A boy invades another man's home, steals his things, kills him, widows his wife, and lives happily ever after."

Moira shrugged.

"He wanted me to read it," she said.

David shuffled in her arms. Alex smiled.

"He's getting big fast," he said.

"I know," Moira said.

She smiled and stroked his hair.

"We're going to have to get him a real bed in a few years," she said.

"Guess so," Alex said.

"What brings you to this neck of the school though?" Moira asked.

Alex shrugged.

"I needed to get out of the lower levels for a bit," he said, "Annie's getting on my nerves."

Moira winced. Annie, the new nurse that they had hired after Sean had been injured, had been in residence at the school for five months. It was difficult for them to get someone who was proficient in meta-human physiology, and Annie was the closest that they came to. She was nice enough, but Moira knew that Alex disliked her.

"Please play nice," Moira said.

"I wish she wasn't so obvious when she flirts," Alex said, "I just…in front of the team and everything."

"Oh, are you embarrassed?" Moira laughed.

"No," Alex said.

His voice was snappish. Moira grinned.

"You'll be fine," Moira said.

She shifted David.

"You just need to give her a chance," Moira said.

"I'm not interested," Alex said, "She's just not my type."

"Oh, and what is your type?" Moira asked.

She'd meant the question as a joke, but a troubled look crossed Alex's face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

His eyes snapped to hers, almost looking panicked.

"No, nothing," he said.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm going to see if Sean needs any help with the mess in the kitchen," he said.

Moira frowned but nodded. She shifted David again and began walking towards the upper levels where the faculty members' rooms were. David woke for a moment, his eyes looking blearily at her as she entered his room. She laid him down on his bed and he grasped for his covers. He yawned and pulled a teddy bear towards him.

"Mama?" he asked.

"I'm here," Moira said.

David yawned again.

"Daddy read tomorrow?"

Moira felt like screaming. She glued a smile on her face as she kissed him on his forehead.

"We'll see," she said.

He snuggled into his teddy bear and fell asleep. Moira turned on his nightlight and closed his door. Gritting her teeth she marched down to Charles's office and flung open the door. He looked up from the papers that he was signing, his expression shocked. Moira swallowed hard, her eyes seeing red.

"One of these days you are going to read to your son," she spat.

Charles dropped his pen and closed his eyes.

"I forgot…I lost track of time," he said.

"I know," Moira said, "Just like you did all those other times."

He threw his hands up.

"Moira I'm trying, but I don't have time!"

"Yes, I understand. You have time for the school, but not for your family," she said.

"That's not what I mean and you know it!" Charles said.

Moira shook her head.

"That's the problem Charles," she said, "I don't. Not anymore."

Turning away she shut the door behind her, fighting tears.

* * *

_**A/N: **Glad to be back! For those of you wondering when I'm going to to an Alex/Lorna fic in this universe, don't worry. It's coming, but for now we're getting back to my roots with a Charles/Moira story. _


	2. Chapter 2

August 3, 1974

"Hey Carly?"

Carly looked up from the book she was reading. Sean stood in front of her, holding Terry by the hand. She had a towel over her head and was looking shame-faced at the ground.

"Is something wrong?" Carly asked.

Sean sighed.

"Nothing too serious," he said, "I was just wondering if you knew how to get gum out of hair."

Terry gave a small whimper. Carly raised her eyebrows.

"How much?"

"Not much," Sean said, "Not at first from what it sounds like."

He winced and looked down at his daughter.

"Then she tried to brush it out."

Carly bit her lip. Terry ducked her head further.

"And then she called me," Sean said, "I had braces for a long time, so this wasn't really an issue in my house. So, I was just wondering if you had any ideas."

Carly thought for a moment.

"Peanut butter is all I can think of," she said, "Work it in and then sort of scrub it with a toothbrush. If bad comes to worse you're going to have to cut it out though."

Terry whimpered again. Sean shook his head.

"Not really an option," he said, "It's kind of…"

He gestured all around his head with his free hand before shrugging.

"Never mind," Sean said.

He picked Terry up.

"Hey, don't worry," he said, "You like peanut butter."

Terry just ducked her head further. Sean gave Carly a helpless look before he walked out of the room. Carly stifled laughter once they were gone.

"I didn't think that _Othello _was that funny."

Carly turned to face her husband, still shaking with laughter.

"No," she said, "Sean just got into some more antics with his daughter."

"I would have never imagined that a child that small could get into so much trouble," Hank sighed, sitting beside her.

She rested her hands on her stomach.

"We'll find out though, won't we?"

"I suppose," Hank said.

His voice was wary, but Carly continued talking.

"Just a few more days now."

Hank tensed and Carly frowned.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing," he said.

She reached out and touched his hand.

"Hank, if something's wrong, you can tell me," Carly said.

He smiled and brought her hand to his lips, his fur brushing against her skin.

"Nothing's wrong Carly," he said, "Nothing at all."

He returned her hand to her side and kissed her forehead.

"Just be sure to get plenty of rest," he said, "We won't be getting too much of it after the baby's born."

He was smiling, although Carly could still see the nervousness in his expression. She supposed that it was how close it was to when their daughter made her debut. Carly was nervous too, although she knew that she would have the best of care. They'd already picked the hospital for the baby to be born in. It had treated the X-men when they'd had things that could be explained away, like a broken leg.

"Alright," she said.

She looked down at her book.

"Although I think that I should start reading some lighter fare," she said.

He laughed.

"I'll go get you the comedies," he said, "I know that you prefer them."

* * *

"Just hold still Terry," Sean said.

He tried to keep his voice as soothing as possible. Terry still whimpered as he rinsed the water through her hair. The gum had come out surprisingly easily, although he knew that his daughter's hair was going to smell like peanut butter for the next couple of days.

He honestly had no clue how she had managed it. He didn't know how she managed much of what she did. After Terry had gotten used to the Institute she had been difficult to keep down. On the days when Sean trained with the X-men he had to keep her away from the Danger Room, too fearful that she'd press the buttons and start a simulation.

Still, it was difficult to be angry at her even when, surprised when Scott had walked around a corner, she had shrieked and broken a vase. Sean could understand her struggle with her powers. Besides, she was so precious in his sight, and he'd had her for so little time.

The last of the gum dissolved in the water and Sean sighed in relief.

"It's all out," he said.

Terry sniffled as Sean dried her hair. There was just so much of it everywhere, and he knew from experience that it tended to snarl. He wondered if it had ever been cut, but he couldn't imagine Black Tom caring about her hair.

"Are you mad at me?"

Her voice came out as a whisper. Sean looked at her, surprised.

"Of course not," he said, "Why would I be mad?"

Terry raised her eyes to his and inwardly Sean cursed. There was too much pain there. At times it was easy to forget what she had gone through. Black Tom had filled her world with pain and fear when she should have had love and light. Every time Sean thought that she had forgotten it, it appeared that it reared itself again.

He hoped that one day he would be able to wash it away from her like an ugly stain, but until then he would just have to keep showing her that he was not his cousin.

"Now, don't get me wrong," Sean said, "You shouldn't have done it. But I figure you got into enough trouble already."

He gently pulled a clump of damp hair forward for her to see.

"No harm done though," he said.

Terry nodded, looking at him curiously. Sean smiled and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said, "Uncle Alex is putting the X-men through their paces today, so it's my day off and the satellite's open."

He gave her a conspiratorial grin.

"Wanna go flying?"

Terry grinned and shyly took his hand. Sean smiled as he led her down the hall. They weren't where a father and daughter should be, he knew that much. However, he also knew that they were getting there. He didn't care how long it took though, just as long as they got there eventually.

* * *

"Looking for something Hank?"

Hank turned and saw Moira. As usual David was beside her, looking bored. He wandered off to the other side of the room, running his hand alongside the books in the library. Hank watched as he peered at the spines before shrugging and moving along another row.

"Aren't you worried he'll pull one out?" Hank asked.

"He's not strong enough," Moira said, "Not yet. That's a can of worms that I'm not looking forward to."

She shook her head.

"But what are you looking for?"

"Shakespearean comedies," Hank said.

Moira nodded.

"I should have known," she said.

"They're for Carly," he said.

"I should have known that too," Moira said.

Hank chuckled.

"I can't seem to find them though," he said, "We have a copy in our room, but I thought it would be quicker to get one on the ground floor. It appears that I was wrong."

She looked over at the shelves.

"We reorganized since you were last here," she said.

Moira peered at the shelves and moved a few bookcases over. She nodded before plucking one out.

"_A Midsummer Night's Dream_," she said, "Will that work?"

"Yes, it's one of her favorites. Thank you," Hank said.

He held out his hand. To his surprise Moira hesitated before letting the book rest at her side.

"I've got a question for you first," she said.

Hank furrowed his brow.

"Moira-"

"Is something wrong with Carly?"

He felt his throat constrict.

"Why, did you see something?" he asked.

"No, nothing's wrong," Moira said.

Hank relaxed, although he couldn't help but feel irritated.

"Why would you ask that then?" he asked.

"Because you go around acting like she's about to break Hank," Moira said.

Hank shook his head.

"She's pregnant Moira," he said.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Moira said.

Hank managed to smile, but it was forced.

"I'm just a little nervous," he said, "That's all. It's our first child."

"And?" Moira said.

"And nothing," he shrugged, "I suppose that it's natural. Charles had a hard time even letting you out of the Institute it I recall correctly."

Moira bit her lip.

"Yes," she said, her voice distant, "I remember that."

She shook her head.

"But there's nerves, and then there's what you're going through," Moira said, "And it's bad. Even worse than most men around their pregnant wives."

"Well I'm not most men, am I?" Hank said.

Moira's face changed. Immediately Hank regretted speaking.

"Never mind," he said.

"No, I think it's too late for never mind," Moira said, "Repeat what you just said."

"It's not important," Hank said.

"I'd say that it is," Moira said.

He sighed and ran a hand through his fur.

"Moira, I'm not normal," he said.

"Hank-" Moira said, her voice soft.

"No, it's not like that," Hank said, waving a hand, "I've come to terms with what I am. But…what about our daughter?"

Moira paused, her lips pursing.

"Hank, you're not seriously suggesting you'll love her less if she's a mutant, are you?" Moira asked.

"Of course not!" Hank snapped, "I'm just worried the effect of birthing a child with fangs and fur might have on my wife. I'm worried they might get hurt!"

Hank turned away, feeling both angry and ashamed. He felt Moira's hand on her shoulder.

"It's not unreasonable," he said.

"No, it isn't," Moira said, "But the ultrasound didn't indicate any of that, did it?"

"No," Hank admitted, "But mutant births are difficult."

"I know. Believe me, I know," Moira said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance at David. He remembered the way her own labor had gone on for hours. They didn't know if David was a mutant or not yet, but his birth had been a difficult one.

Her expression was soft when she turned back to him.

"Don't live in fear Hank," she said, "It's going to be alright. Carly's strong, she'll make it. And in a few days, you're going to be a father. Think about that instead."

She squeezed his shoulder.

"Appreciate your family," Moira said, "It's the closest thing to heaven anyone is ever going to have. The only reason it can cause you so much pain is because you care about it so much."

Moira slipped the book into his hands before walking over to David. She picked him up and left the room. Hank stared after her, feeling a pain begin in his chest. Taking a deep breath he walked out of the library and into the study. Carly was where he had left her, her eyes heavy with sleep.

She smiled when he came into the room and sat beside her. Still feeling unsure of the future Hank put his arm over her shoulder, his fingertips brushing her face.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little," Carly yawned.

She snuggled into his shoulder.

"Don't think I'll be very good at reading," Carly said.

"I'll read aloud," Hank said.

He flipped open the book. Carly sighed.

"Finally, a comedy," Carly said, "They're the only ones worth reading you know."

"Perhaps," Hank said.


	3. Chapter 3

August 5, 1974

"Lorna!"

Lorna turned away from her punching bag and looked over her shoulder. To her surprise she saw Toad walk into the room, waving enthusiastically.

"You're back?" she asked.

"Yep," he said.

He paused, his green-yellow eyes bright.

"Can I hug you, or do you mind the slime?" he asked.

Lorna chuckled. She remembered when he'd first asked her that question four years ago at the beginning of their acquaintance. Her father had been yelling at him for crashing one of their radios, and Lorna had come to his defense. As soon as her father had left Toad had turned to her, his eyes wide, and asked his question.

At the time it had been motivated by self-consciousness. He had been very young, and she knew that he hadn't come into much positive reinforcement for his mutation. Now that he had become more comfortable with his mutation it had become an insider joke. It made Lorna happy to hear it, reminding her that, despite everything that she had been through, at least one thing hadn't changed.

"Only if you don't mind the sweat," she said.

Toad laughed and gave her a one-armed hug.

"Heard that 'ya got kidnapped by the X-men," he said.

Lorna released him and shook her head.

"No," she said, "I got kidnapped by Black Tom and rescued by the X-men."

"That must have been embarrassing," Toad said.

Lorna punched him in the shoulder. He chuckled and rubbed his arm in mock-pain.

"You're so violent," he said.

"Not as violent as I can be," she said.

Toad smirked.

"Can't say I'm surprised 'bout Black Tom. Always struck me as a shit," Toad said, "Didn't think you were the damsel in distress type though."

"It was one X-man," Lorna said, "And I did pretty good for myself. Both of us would have died if we hadn't worked together."

"I bet," Toad said.

She snorted.

"It's true," she said.

"No, I know 'ya did," Toad said, "But, which one was it? They never told me."

The word 'Alex' tripped to her tongue, but she stopped it in time.

"Havok," she said.

"Holy shit," Toad said, "You ended up fighting with Havok?"

"Alongside and with are two different things," Lorna said.

Toad smirked.

"I bet," he said, "How was it around him? Did he give 'ya all of their weird propaganda? A brochure for the school?"

Lorna paused. She thought of Alex, of the way he'd talked to her. Lorna was almost ashamed of how much she thought about him. He'd told her a lot of things that she didn't want to hear, a lot of things that she'd dismissed as wrong. It went against her father's teaching, against everything she had been told since she was a child.

However, he'd been different from what she expected. He was cynical, not the type of person she thought would buy into the wishy-washy ways of the X-men. Alex had been willing, not just to fight, but to use trickery, to sacrifice, to threaten, and to be underhanded. He wasn't naïve. He knew exactly what he was doing, and that completely contradicted what her father had told her.

She'd respected him and, against her better judgment, become his friend. Lorna had been left pondering a lot of things that Alex had brought to light. She had hoped to leave him in a similar frame of mind, that he'd been wrong to think of them all as brutal murderers without consciences. She'd thought that she could take his mind out of Westchester, to convince him that the Brotherhood was more then he'd thought.

Then Mystique had stabbed Black Tom, hacking him to pieces. Lorna swallowed, the scene playing out in her mind over and over again. She tried to remember Alex's expression as Mystique brutally murdered Black Tom. He'd just admitted that there was more than he'd thought, and Lorna had felt proud, thinking that she had successfully defended her father's methods. She wondered how disappointed he'd been when he'd seen the murder, how angry he'd been at himself for listening to Lorna even for a moment.

It bothered her more than she'd wanted to admit. She wished, more than anything, that she could talk to someone about what she was feeling. Lorna wished that she could sit down with Angel and talk, like she had when something trivial was on her mind. She wished that she could talk to her father, to tell him about the thoughts that had cluttered her mind, just like she always had.

Lorna knew that it wasn't an option though. She knew, without even asking, that they wouldn't understand. And if she couldn't talk to a woman she considered her aunt and her father, then she couldn't talk to Toad about it either. So, instead of saying what she felt, she shrugged casually and rolled her eyes.

"Let's just say he talked a lot," Lorna said.

Toad grinned.

"I can imagine that," he said.

He paused and shifted his feet.

"I heard 'bout Zaz too," he said, "Sorry."

Lorna clenched one of her hands into a fist. It had been months since Azazel had died and it was still hard to forget.

"It's okay," she said.

Toad shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Nah, 'ya don't hafta lie to me," he said, "I know it's not okay. I know that 'ya two were close."

Lorna forced a smile.

"It was the way he would have wanted to go, I think," she said, "Fighting."

Toad nodded, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

"I guess," Toad said, "I didn't know 'im like 'ya did."

She shrugged and straightened the wraps around her hands. Even though she'd known Toad for years she didn't feel comfortable talking about her feelings with him. The Brotherhood was a closed organization. If you had a problem then you didn't bother anyone else with it. Lorna knew that, in many cases, she was the exception because she had been raised with them, but not by much. It was why she knew that she couldn't talk about her feelings about what Alex had told her.

The only time Lorna had ever shared how she felt about something as complicated as Azazel's death was her father and a few minutes with Angel. And Alex. She didn't dwell on that though. It was another thing she'd learned: you didn't dwell on what bothered you.

"So, um, how was Bayville?" she asked.

Toad smiled, looking relieved.

"Boooring," he said, "Seriously, you'd think that Kelly woulda done somethin' while we were there, but guess what he did?"

"Nothing?" Lorna said.

"That's right, nuthin,'" Toad said, "Nuthin, zip, nada, zilch. I mean, there was that riot at the end, but other than that, nuthin.' And it's just a stupid riot, right? Not really much to do with us, 'ya know?"

Lorna smiled and nodded.

"But we're back, an' I'm glad," Toad said, "Might have a chance of actually gettin' some action now."

"It's been a little quiet lately," Lorna said.

"Don't lie 'ta me," Toad said, "There's always somethin' goin' on."

Lorna nodded. She heard footsteps from further down the hall.

"Toad, this place is a maze!"

A girl with blonde hair walked in, followed by a bored looking man with torn jeans. Lorna raised her eyebrows.

"Did you make some new friends?" Lorna asked.

"Yeah, got some new recruits in Bayville," Toad said, "Thought Emma was givin' 'ya the orientation."

"The Ice Queen?" the girl asked, "Yeah, thanks but no thanks."

She looked at Lorna.

"You look like you're made out of flesh and blood though, which is a relief," she said.

Lorna looked down at Toad.

"That's Tabby," Toad said.

The girl blew a pink bubble before popping it and chewing enthusiastically. She held out her hand, grinning.

"Call me Boom-Boom," she said.

Lorna had to stifle a snort of disbelief. Tabby seemed nice enough, but Lorna knew that, in time, she was going to regret that codename. Still, she was going to have to figure that out on her own. Lorna grasped her hand and grinned at her. She seemed enthusiastic, which was worth something.

"Lorna," Lorna said.

"Nice name," Tabby said, "And your mutant name?"

Lorna let go of her hand. She was about to answer, but Tabby kept talking.

"Are you already on missions?" she asked, "Because I'm not, but I did some stuff back at Bayville so I'm not defenseless or anything. I want to be cleared, but I have to be evaluated first, whatever that means."

Lorna glanced at Toad, who shrugged. The man with torn jeans sighed.

"Tabby, will you shut up already?" he said.

His tone was sharp, but Tabby shrugged it off.

"Whatever Lance," she said.

"That's not a nickname," Lance said.

"Like Avalanche," Tabby said.

"Makes sense," Lorna said.

Lance glared at her.

"Whatever green-girl."

She put her hands on her hips.

"Green girl?" she asked.

She supposed that they really hadn't been through orientation yet.

"Yeah, green-girl," he said.

Lorna tilted her head. She took a long look at Lance. Ripped jeans, torn vest, fingerless gloves. She grinned.

"Bet you think you're real tough, don't you?" she said, "But let me tell you something: the torn vest is overkill."

Lance glared at her as Tabby giggled.

"Says the girl that I can probably snap in half," he snapped.

Lorna crossed her arms.

"I seriously doubt that," she said.

"What, scared?" Lance snapped.

She saw that Toad was trying to make a motion to Lance, but it was too late.

"Okay," she said, "You're new here, let's see what you got."

Without another word she walked over to the mats. She motioned for him to join her, and he stepped onto the mats. Lorna put her hands on her hips and looked at Toad.

"Count down please," she said.

Toad sighed.

"Three, two, one."

Lance stomped his foot. The ground shook beneath her feet. It was nothing serious, but it was enough to throw her off balance. It was certainly an interesting mutation, and she figured it tied in with the name he'd given. She caught herself before she hit the floor, cartwheeling behind Lance. He kicked and Lorna ducked around him.

Lorna laughed. Was this what was passing for tough now? If Alex ever met Lance on the field he'd make quick work of him.

"Sloppy, you're swinging too wide," Lorna said.

He threw out a punch. Lorna twirled around it and tripped him. He managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Tabby stifled a giggle. He turned, glaring.

"You're putting too much force, so you have a hard time stopping your momentum," she said.

She spent the next few minutes dodging his attacks and giving out a few pointers. After a few minutes he threw a punch but she caught it, flipping him over. He kicked out, but Lorna put more pressure on his arm. She put her foot on his back, stretching his arm out. She waited as he struggled for a minute.

"I'd call time on that one," she said, "And here's a tip for being in the Brotherhood Lance: you are never the toughest."

Lorna released his arm and brushed herself off. She waved at Tabby and Toad before walking out of the hallway. Snatches of conversation drifted after her.

"I tried 'ta warn 'ya man," Toad said.

"Not good enough. Who the hell was that?" Lance snapped.

"That's Lorna, or Magnetrix," Toad said, "She's Mags's daughter."

Lorna grinned.

"Well it makes sense that she'd be good then," Tabby said.

"Guessing she's her father's clone then," Lance spat.

"Clone no, but she an' her Dad agree on everythin,'" Toad said.

Lorna's face fell and she closed her eyes, leaving the conversation behind. Not everything: not anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

August 8, 1974

Carly cried out, gasping for breath. Hank wrapped his hand around hers, feeling that it was slick with sweat. Her hair was plastered to the pillow, her expression tense and her lips dry. Every cry tore at his heart, sending up a wordless prayer from his mind that everything would be alright.

"You're doing great Mrs. McCoy," the doctor said, "She's coming along nicely. Should be any minute now."

Carly took another ragged breath. She'd gone into labor several hours ago, although to Hank it felt like it was an eternity. He knew that the rest of their friends were waiting outside, hoping to hear the good news. Hank had, thankfully, been allowed into the delivery room with her. He'd remembered the fight Charles had with the doctors when Moira was giving birth. Her furious demands that he be with her, and a sympathetic doctor, had finally allowed him in.

Things had gone smoother for Hank, and he was glad. He didn't know if he would have been able to stop himself from snarling out his anger if they didn't let him be with his wife. Having her cry out like that was exacerbating his fears even when she was in the room with him. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be out in the hall.

Carly swallowed, pain etched across her face.

"It's okay," Hank said, his voice soothing.

She turned towards him, her breath erratic.

"I know," she said, her voice trembling.

Hank managed a smile

"You're doing well Carly," he said.

He racked his brains, trying to think of something that he could say that would help.

"When we get back home," he said, "we can put her in the nursery. It's all ready."

Carly nodded. She'd gone to great pains to make sure it was so.

"We can put her in one of those onesies we got for your baby shower," he said, "And Paul got her that book with those pictures. Penny's going to love her."

His wife nodded again, her eyes still tired. Hank tried to think of other things to say.

"We're finally going to be able to wrap our daughter up in that pink blanket your father got her," he said.

Carly smiled. Hank knew how happy she was that she had reconciled with her father. He knew that Daniel wasn't happy about his daughter's choice of husband, but he had buried it in an attempt to stay in his daughter's life. Hank hadn't minded: he'd just wanted Carly to be happy, and he buried his own mixed feelings about his father-in-law.

Daniel had been thrilled about the idea of a grandchild. As soon as he'd heard it would be a girl he'd sent down a pink blanket with roses on it. Carly had put it in their nursery. Her father would be coming down soon to see the child, and she'd told Hank that he'd be touched that his gift was being put to good use.

In those moments Hank had tried hard not to think about his own worries. He knew that Moira had been right. It amazed him that she could take time out of her own life to worry about the boys who had come as teenagers to Westchester years ago, how her observation skills were still doing her credit.

Knowing something and believing it were different things though. He gripped Carly's hand tighter, willing everything to be fine.

"Mrs. McCoy?" the doctor said, "I'm going to need you to push again, alright?"

Carly closed her eyes and nodded. She dug her fingers into Hanks' palm and he wrapped his other hand around hers.

"It's okay," he said.

He hoped that he sounded more believable to her than he did to himself. She continued to take in gasping breaths, her face contorted with the strain.

"One more should do it."

Hank sent up another wordless prayer that they would be fine. Carly had brought light into his world, reminded him what it was to fight for something, told him not to be ashamed any more. Then, as though that wasn't enough, she was giving birth to his child. He'd thought he would never be a father after he had taken the serum, but once again she had proven him wrong. He couldn't have come as far as he had to lose them now.

His ears pricked as a cry filled the room. Carly collapsed on her pillow, exhausted. Everything in him screamed for him to turn around, but he couldn't. Fear paralyzed him.

"Once more for the afterbirth, okay?"

Carly's face contorted in pain once more.

"Alright then, you're finished," the doctor said, "Great job Mrs. McCoy. Great job."

"Where…?" she said weakly.

"They're cleaning her up right now," the doctor said.

Carly turned her head to Hank. He smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. She was fine. Everything was almost perfect.

"Dr. and Mrs. McCoy? I think there's someone here who wants to meet you," a nurse said.

Hank looked up. A small bundle was placed into Carly's waiting arms. Hank stared at the small child, her face still scrunched up and her eyes closed with wailing. Carly smiled and touched her forehead.

"She's beautiful," Carly breathed.

She looked up at Hank. Words failed him for a moment, the image of his wife holding his daughter burned into his eyes. After what seemed like hours he found his voice.

"What a piece of work is man," Hank whispered, "How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel."

He gently extended one of his hands and touched his daughter's face, careful not to hurt her with his claw. She continued to cry, her voice a new one in a strange world.

"Sharon," Carly said.

She looked up at Hank.

"That's still the preferred name, right?" she asked.

Hank nodded.

"Sharon," he said.

Sharon opened her eyes, as if reacting to her name, although she didn't stop crying. Her slitted, leonine pupils took in her parents. Carly smiled and kissed her forehead even as Sharon closed her eyes again. Hank wrapped his arm around his wife, staring at his daughter with adoration. She was perfect.

"Sharon McCoy," he said.

* * *

"Would you look at that," Sean said.

They small group moved into the room, trying to give the new family their space while trying to peer at the child.

"Congratulations you guys," Sean said.

Hank beamed and Carly held their child closer. Moira placed a vase of roses on the window sill, smiling at the couple. Terry walked up, her gaze inquisitive.

"She's so small," Terry said.

Carly smiled and shifted her daughter. Moira could see that she was streaked with exhaustion, and rightly so. She had just accomplished what Moira knew to be the most difficult few hours of her life, and the most painful as well. Still, she was safe and healthy, as was her daughter. Moira had told Hank that there was nothing to worry about.

Terry looked from Sharon to her father.

"Was I that small?"

Sean smiled, although Moira knew that the expression cost him. He'd never seen Terry as a baby, never had the moment that Hank was having with his wife and daughter.

"Everyone was at one point," Sean said.

Alex walked into the room, his hands in his pockets.

"Just told the gang back at Westchester," he said, "They still don't know where the champagne is, so I don't think they'll get too rowdy."

He held a bottle aloft.

"Me though," he said, "I know exactly where it is."

A ripple of laughter spread through the group as Alex took out a few glasses and started passing them around.

"Your first glass of champagne in nine months," Alex said, passing Carly a glass, "I don't know what Hank was thinking, saying you couldn't have any."

"Just you wait," Hank said, "They'll find out it's harmful."

"You're the smart one, not me," Alex shrugged.

He handed Hank a glass before getting back to the bottle. David peered at Sharon and frowned. He looked back at Charles, who was right behind him. At least he'd been here for this.

"Small," he said.

"That's right," Charles said.

David pointed at Terry.

"Small too?" he asked.

"Not now," Terry said.

"At one point, yes," Charles laughed.

David's frown deepened.

"Me too?" he asked, "Small?"

Charles smiled and ruffled his son's hair.

"Yes," Charles said.

David frowned and looked back at Sharon. He cocked his head, as though he were trying to figure something out.

"Can I has one?" he asked, "Just small one?"

Moira frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Brudder," he said.

Her heart stopped. Moira forced herself to pretend that this was no more than what it appeared, that her heart wasn't breaking.

"It doesn't work that way David," Moira said.

David pouted. Alex coughed.

"He's certainly assertive," he said.

Alex turned back to Hank.

"Weird thinking of you as a father," Alex said, his voice light, "You're always gonna be the guy who can't talk to girls to me."

"And what am I?" Carly laughed.

"A godsend," Alex said.

Moira felt a wave of gratitude towards Alex. She wondered if he knew the pain she was feeling at the moment, but she wasn't about to let it intrude on the happy moment that Hank was sharing with his family, a moment that he had earned. So she forced herself not to look away from the scene, remembering when she had given birth to David.

It had been painful, a difficult delivery that had gone on for hours and hours. Moira had known that it would be long, but she had never felt more frightened or more alone. They hadn't let Charles in for the first half, but they had finally managed to convince them to let him in when the delivery had become increasingly difficult.

He'd stayed by her, his gentle words and touches a sea of calm in an ocean of pain and confusion. Then David had come and Moira had burst into tears. She had finally been able to have the child that she had always wanted, the child that the doctors had said would never be possible as long as she stayed with her husband.

It hadn't even mattered when the doctors had told her that he would be the only one. The delivery had damaged her internally. Moira would never be able to have children again. Still, she knew that she was lucky to have even had one. Charles and her were seriously discussing adopting when she found out that she was pregnant.

Having David ask for a brother was painful though. Moira had often wondered if Charles and she should adopt a second child. It would be easy enough to find a child in need of a home. However, Moira knew that they couldn't. Not with things how they were. She wasn't going to bring another child into a mess that had still to be sorted out.

It was one of the reasons why she knew she had to continue to be strong. David needed them to figure everything out. Moira felt like she was out of things to try though. Her husband was drifting away from her and she wasn't sure if she could stop him. She wasn't even sure that he wanted her to, and that thought scared her.

Moira could still remember his soft words of love when she gave birth to their son in that very hospital. How had things changed so much? It had only been around four years ago. Moira wished that they could wind the clock back, but she had yet to find anyone with that mutation. It was too late for such things in any case.

She walked over to her husband and son. David still looked shocked at the revelation that he had been small, and a little put-out that he wasn't getting a brother. Charles was smiling and Moira put her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, looking surprised, before looking back at the group. Moira took a deep breath. At least, for the moment, she could hold him with her.


	5. Chapter 5

August 13, 1974

"Lorna?"

Lorna looked up from the codes that she was working on. Her father stood in the doorway, looking tired.

"Hey," she said.

Her father smiled and took a seat across from her.

"What are they up to in Washington?" he asked.

"Not much," Lorna said, "Nothing Watergate-worthy anyway. Looks like they've run out of scandals for the moment."

She pushed the messages away from her.

"But I'm guessing that you didn't come here to ask about that, did you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No, I didn't," he said.

He folded his hands on the table, looking thoughtful.

"I'd like your opinion on something," he said.

Lorna cocked her head.

"Now that sounds important," she said.

"It is," her father said, "I was wondering what you thought about the former Bayville unit."

Lorna furrowed her eyebrows.

"You mean as a whole, or individually?" she asked.

"Both," her father said.

Lorna paused for a minute, trying to find the right words.

"Well," she said, "Toad's dedicated, but he isn't proficient in anything other than distance fighting and he's a little too eager. Boom-Boom…has a really bad name."

Her father laughed. Good. She wasn't the only one who thought that.

"It is unfortunate," her father said, "But I imagine that she might change it in a few years."

"I hope so," Lorna said.

She thought back to the few times she'd seen Tabby display her mutation.

"She's good, but she's too eager," Lorna said, "Senyaka, you know my opinion on Senyaka. I haven't seen anything to change it."

Her father nodded. Lorna was still angry from when he'd teamed up with Black Tom to try and kill Cyclops in a hospital where he'd been being treated. He'd been unapologetic about going after an enemy who couldn't fight back, seeming affronted that she would be angry at him directly after the incident.

All her life she'd been taught about honor in battle from Azazel and her father, and Senyaka didn't have any. He claimed to have learned his lesson since then, but Lorna had yet to see proof of it.

"Unfortunately Blob is still in Bayville, so I haven't seen his progress," Lorna said, "But Avalanche is far too cocky for someone of his skill level."

"I heard you got into a little scrape a few days ago," her father said, smiling.

"I just gave him some tips on picking his fights a little more wisely," Lorna shrugged, "I wouldn't call something like that a fight."

"I'm sure you did," her father said.

He drummed his fingers on the table.

"And the group as a unit?" her father said.

Lorna winced.

"I haven't seen them fight together," Lorna said, "But, from what I gather, they're unprincipled. Senyaka and Toad can take orders, but Boom-Boom can be irrational at times and Avalanche…yeah. I imagine he'll have some problems taking orders."

"Hm," her father said.

He leaned back. Lorna shifted, suddenly feeling anxious.

"Do you know something that I don't?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said, "But I do have one more question for you."

"Which is?" Lorna said.

"Do you think that they can be salvaged?" he asked, "Taught to act as a unit, to fight together? It would be good to have another team on the field."

Lorna paused. She knew that her father valued her answer, and she ached to answer it correctly. She considered their different temperaments, but she had seen people come together in the Brotherhood before.

"Yes," she said, "If they received proper instruction, then yes, I do."

"Good," her father said, "I'm glad that you agree."

He grinned and Lorna suddenly felt apprehensive.

"Father?" she asked.

"Lorna," he said, "You have always shown an incredible capacity for leadership. I was hoping to give you a slightly easier first task, but we can only work with the tools that we are given."

Lorna blinked at him, feeling her heart plummeting. He couldn't be asking what she thought he was.

"I believe that you are ready to lead a team into the field," he said, "I want to see you train them into a unit. You'll finally be a field leader."

She stared at him, unable to say a word. He drummed his fingers on the table again, looking slightly puzzled.

"I thought that you would be happier Lorna," he said, "I thought this was what you wanted."

"No, I've always wanted this," Lorna said, stumbling over her words.

She had always wanted it, but that had been when she was sure about where she stood. Now her feelings were a tangled mass around her head and heart.

"I'm just, really surprised," Lorna said.

"You've earned it," her father said.

He got up and walked next to her. Her father leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"I can't think of anyone that I trust more with something like this," he said, "You'll do beautifully."

Lorna managed a smile. Emma walked in the doorway. She looked at the two of them and raised her eyebrows.

"You told her then?" she asked.

"Of course," her father said.

Emma nodded at Lorna.

"Congratulations," she said.

Without waiting for an answer Emma looked at her father.

"Janos is back," Emma said, "He wants to talk to you."

"One moment," her father said.

Her father squeezed Lorna's shoulder.

"You've earned this team," he said, "I know you'll do me proud."

Lorna nodded, forcing her smile to stay on her face. Once her father walked out Lorna put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. Tears were welling there, and she forced them back. She wanted to make her father proud, more than anything. Lorna could only wonder if she could any more.

She opened her eyes. She couldn't afford to think about that. Lorna had been given a mission, and she was going to complete it. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe all she needed to forget about Alex's words and Mystique's actions was a reminder of what the Brotherhood really stood for.

* * *

"Let me get your files out," Charles said.

Warren nodded, scrabbling at the harness that kept his wings strapped to his back. He'd told Charles that he had to wear it whenever he went home. It didn't look comfortable.

"Sorry to spring this on you," Warren said.

"It's no problem," Charles said, "I just wasn't expecting to conduct your advising session for another week."

The teen shrugged, undoing the last snap on the harness. His wings unfurled and he let out a sigh of relief.

"I convinced my Dad that the term started two weeks earlier this year," he said.

"I see," Charles said.

He knew that Warren's home life was, at best, troubled. His father had been disgusted with his son's mutation, but not enough to abandon him. Charles supposed that, in his own way, Warren's father did love him. Warren certainly defended him. He had just pushed Warren to let him chop off his wings since Warren was thirteen. Charles had a hard time understanding that sort of love.

Warren sat down, cracking his neck.

"So, what classes am I taking?" he asked.

"The standard ones," Charles said, "And I thought that you might enjoy taking some electives."

"I guess I could do art or something," Warren shrugged.

"That's a little vague," Charles said.

"I'm not really interested in electives, to be honest," he said.

He grinned.

"I'm still taking advanced genetics, right?" he asked.

Charles nodded. The class was a thinly veiled reference to the X-men program. Warren grinned and ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"I'm actually kind of looking forward to getting back to that," he said.

"And here I was thinking that you enjoyed your summer away from Professor Summers," Charles said.

Warren winced.

"Oh yeah, forgot about him," Warren said, "What about Professor Cassidy?"

"He's an adjunct," Charles said.

"So Summers still in charge?"

"Yes, and he will be for the forseeable future," Charles said.

"Damn, thought so," Warren said.

Charles frowned at the curse. Warren winced.

"Sorry sir," he said.

"No matter," Charles said.

He continued to flip through Warren's file, looking for anything that might help him shape Warren's schedule a little better. He enjoyed advising his students, although sometimes it did whittle away more time than he'd anticipated. Still, they were short staffed, and he knew that someone had to pick up extra work to make the school run.

He only wished that his wife would understand.

"Professor?"

Charles looked up and saw Warren fidgeting.

"Did you hear about the conference?" he asked.

His voice was hopeful. The conference that he was referring to was on mutant rights, geared towards young students. Anyone who wanted to go had been required to submit an application through their school. Warren had applied, along with Jean and Scott. Clarice was still a little scared of places where people would be staring at her in a non-combative way, and Ororo didn't care about such things.

"I'm sorry, but I have not," Charles said.

Warren slumped.

"Okay," he said.

Charles hesitated.

"They have, however, released a statement saying that they will only be taking two students from every school," he said.

Warren closed his eyes and sighed.

"So I'm not going then."

"I never said that," Charles said, "Just that it might be more difficult-"

"But the other two are Jean and Scott," Warren said, his voice bitter, "Jean, she's the smartest person in the school. They'll look at her scores and all the clubs she's involved in and they'll snap her up. And then it's between me and Scott."

He snorted.

"We all know how that ends."

Charles winced. Alex had quietly talked to him about how, a year or so ago, both Warren and Scott had asked Jean out. Jean had said yes to Scott, causing a rift in the team. They had managed to sail through it, but Charles knew that Warren was still upset about it. His friendship with Scott had never fully recovered.

"I mean, he gets everything, doesn't he?" Warren said, "Gets to be the most popular, the strongest, gets to lead the X-men one day, and now he gets the conference too."

"They haven't made their decision yet," Charles said.

"Yeah, but I know what they'll decide," Warren said, "I know."

Warren shrugged, his tone cracking.

"It just sort of sucks to always be second best," he said.

"Warren-" Charles said.

Warren got up, brushing off his wings.

"You know, can we reschedule this?" Warren asked, "Maybe until tomorrow?"

The anguish and frustration was palpable in his voice.

"Of course," Charles said, "Do you want to talk Warren?"

Warren hesitated before shaking his head.

"No, not really," he said.

Without another word Warren walked out of the room, his head hung low.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

August 14, 1974

"David's running a temperature."

Charles looked up, his expression shocked. Moira stood in the doorway, shifting her feet.

"Is it serious?" he asked.

The concern in his voice was genuine. It was touching.

"Not really," she said, "Just a slight one. A runny nose, that sort of thing. I put him in for a nap. He should be up in about two hours."

"Thank God," Charles said.

He smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

"He does know how to get into trouble, doesn't he?" Charles asked.

Moira smiled and sat down in front of her husband's desk. It felt like a long time since they had sat down alone together. She couldn't even remember the last time that they had eaten dinner alone together.

"Well, he doesn't get it from my side of the family," she said.

"Of course you would say that," Charles said.

He put his pen down and Moira's heart skipped a beat. What they were doing felt so natural, so effortless. She was terrified of losing it.

"We're going to have to get him a real bed soon," Moira said, "I think that he's outgrowing the crib a little."

"Perhaps," Charles said.

He looked down.

"He seems to be getting bigger so fast," Charles said.

A comment about how little time he actually spent with his son formed on Moira's tongue. She forced it away. She wasn't going to be the one who shattered the closest thing she'd had to a real conversation with her husband in ages.

"It seems strange having another baby in the mansion after so long," Charles said.

"You mean noisy," Moira said.

Sharon had made her presence known in the mansion immediately. Moira awoke to hear her cry from further down the floor. For a moment she thought about getting a bottle for David, having to remind herself that it wasn't her child that was crying for its parents, but the child of one of her students.

Hank had seemed beside himself that everything had gone fine in the delivery. Since Sharon had been born Hank had rarely left her side, oftentimes accompanied by Carly. They both seemed taken with their child, and Moira could understand. She remembered how Charles and she had been right after David had been born. The memories were bittersweet, but she hadn't given up hope.

Hank and Carly were planning on leaving in a few days, just as soon as Sharon was ready to travel. They were going to go back to Rhode Island, where Carly's father was going to meet them to see his granddaughter. Moira knew that Carly's father disliked mutants, and she hoped that he would keep his mouth shut about his granddaughter's leonine eyes.

She also knew that Hank intended to continue his political campaign when he got there. Moira wished him well, although she had cautioned him that his daughter would take up a great deal of his time. Hank hadn't seemed too perturbed by the idea. The very idea that he had a daughter seemed to be shocking to him.

"Well, I'm glad that everything went well for them," Charles said.

"As mutant births go, Carly's was apparently on the easy side," Moira said, "Although I think that she might disagree."

"Undoubtedly," Charles said.

"She's strong though," Moira said.

"She is," Charles said.

He looked down at his paperwork. He shifted the papers around before clearing his throat.

"Tell me if David improves."

Moira paused, blinking. Charles picked up his pen again and began to go over the forms.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just looking to see if we can renovate a few rooms in the east wing," Charles said, "We're getting more students every year. I think that it would have to be done next summer, but still. Taking on more students would also mean more faculty, that sort of thing. It's a time-consuming process. I want to get it done as soon as possible."

Moira stared at him as he continued to fill out the forms. She knew a dismissal when she heard one.

"Charles, can't it wait?" she said.

She knew her voice was only seconds away from cracking. Charles looked up, frowning.

"Why?" he asked.

The word bit into her head. Moira clutched the armrests of her chair.

"Why?" she repeated.

She shook her head.

"Has it occurred to you that this is the first actual conversation that we've had in a month?" Moira said.

"It can't be that long," Charles said.

"It is," Moira said.

"We've talked plenty," he said.

"About work," Moira said, "We've talked about work. We haven't talked about things that actually matter though, like David."

Charles put his pen down.

"The last time we talked about David it was because I was a little late to story time."

"You were an hour late to story time," Moira snapped.

She struggled to regain her composure.

"I'm not talking about that right now though," Moira said, "I'm talking about the fact that we don't talk."

"You're exaggerating," Charles said.

"I'm really not," she said.

Charles sighed and rubbed his temples.

"I don't have time to argue about this Moira," he said.

The words stung.

"You don't have time?" Moira said, "You should make time for something like this."

"I have a school to run," Charles said.

"And people to help you," Moira said, "You think that my job doesn't take up a lot of time? That I don't struggle with everything that's going on?"

"I never said that," Charles said.

"You just did," Moira said.

"You're putting words in my mouth," Charles said.

She ran her hands through her hair.

"Charles, we have to face facts right now," she said, "We need to talk about these things. I don't like arguing with you-"

"That comes as a surprise," he said.

Moira closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again she saw her husband's eyes staring at her. She felt helpless. The situation had spiraled out of control too quickly. Moira had no idea what she was supposed to do, what she could say to repair a dam that seemed to be springing leaks faster than she could see them, let alone patch them.

"Charles," she said, her voice soft, "What happened to us?"

His eyes widened.

"I…what are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Moira said, hating the way that her voice caught, "You know."

She swallowed.

"We weren't always like this," Moira said, "But a few years ago something happened and ever since then it's been like we've been on a slippery slope, sliding towards…"

The word 'divorce' burned in her mind but stopped in her throat. She couldn't speak it. It was hard enough to think.

"Charles, what happened?" she asked.

Her husband stared at her, his eyes soft and sad. Despite everything Moira felt hope rise in her. He wasn't ignorant. He had felt their descent as well, been hurt by it. Perhaps all she had needed to do was tell him how she felt, what she had seen. They had done so much together, solved so many problems. They could solve this too.

His face suddenly closed and he looked down.

"You're being too dramatic," he said.

Moira bit the inside of her cheek. She shoved away from his desk, the chair's legs scraping the floor.

"How dare you?"

His eyes stared at her, still sad, but his mouth set into a firm line.

"After everything," Moira said, "I'm the only one fighting for us. You know, maybe I am wrong."

She put her hands on his desk and leaned in.

"Maybe it's always been this way," she hissed.

Turning on her heel she walked out of his office, slamming the door behind her. Moira turned into the next hallway before the tears spilled out of her eyes. She put her hands in front of her face, angry for crying, angry for the fact that her words had meant nothing, angry that, even though she was trying, she was still failing.

The tears continued to trickle down her cheeks, leaving a burning trail. Moira knew that she should stop crying. She would have to go check up on David, and if he was awake she couldn't have him see her crying. However, the pain in her heart was too great. She could have a few minutes to herself.

"Moira, are you alright?"

She looked up. Alex was standing in front of her, his expression shocked and horrified. She swallowed and pushed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, desperate to force the tears away. However, she knew from the expression on Alex's face that it was too late. The damage had already been done.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Moira, you most definitely are not fine," Alex said.

"I'm fine," Moira repeated.

She finished wiping away her tears.

"Excuse me," she said, "I need to…get going."

Alex stared at her as though he considered stopping her. He didn't though, perhaps because the very act of seeing her crying still stunned him. She moved past him and walked to the faculty quarters, desperate to get away. Alex might be twenty-six now, but he was still one of her students. She couldn't talk to him.

Moira bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn't talk to anyone about what she was feeling. The people she was close to couldn't understand what she was feeling. She couldn't even talk to her husband of nearly a decade, a man that she had opened her heart and mind to. She couldn't have anyone find out what was going on. That would make it real.

And now it appeared that she couldn't cry anymore either.

* * *

Sinister watched as the droplet of liquid fell into the petri dish. He smiled as it fizzled, the two different liquids combining together into a black goop.

"The reaction is solid," he said.

He looked over at the sample of the lab coat that he had saved. It was absolutely soaked with Scott Summers' blood. He had known that cutting into him during their fight might have mixed results. Sinister had wanted the younger Summer's alive, a specimen to take apart and discover what made the mutant gene tick.

Instead he would have to content himself with the scraps of a marvelous DNA strand. However, at least he was able to confirm his original theories.

"The strain is the lowest level mutation," he said, "It has only one quick in the strand. Everyone else has three in the very least. It might not be the most powerful mutation in the world, but it certainly is the most universal. He does bear the original mutation. A derivative strain. Yes, I quite like that name."

He sealed the petri dish and put it into a freezer. Immediately he saw the steam rise off of it. Sinister smiled and shut the freezer.

"It will need to incubate for about five days," he said, "I want to test it on a small scale first, just one patient. That shouldn't be a problem. After that I would like a large sample to confirm."

He paused, straightening his coat.

"I wonder where I could find such a thing," he said, "But I suppose that it doesn't matter much for the time being."

He hummed to himself as he picked up the blood-soaked fabric.

"It will open such doors," he said, "I promise that. Such doors as the world has never seen before."

* * *

_**A/N: **Because tomorrow's Easter I'm going to be posting two chapters today. Happy Easter!_


	7. Chapter 7

August 15, 1974

Alex looked down from the observation room in the Danger Room. The team was running a simulation based on the idea that they were protecting an urban area. Alex knew that the simulation was necessary, but he disliked it. It was too reminiscent of an all out warzone, and he didn't like to think that they would be in that situation.

No matter what Magneto said, no matter what Alex secretly feared, there was never going to be a war between mutants and humans. He was never going to see his students, his brother, standing against an army bent on their destruction. Not if they could stop it, and he'd learned that the X-men could stop many things.

At the same time, thinking about the Brotherhood made him uncomfortable. Thoughts of the Brotherhood inevitably led to thoughts of Magnetrix, or Lorna. Her real name floated beneath the one she had taken to go into the field, brought to his attention's by Terry's inquiries about her former protector.

She was a puzzle that, eight months later, Alex still didn't fully understand. A Brotherhood member was not supposed to have honor or care about human life. They weren't supposed to be dependable. Lorna had always taken after her father in Alex's eyes, a man who was incapable of standing by people in their hour of need.

Somehow his daughter had turned out different. Alex wasn't stupid enough not to see that. He had trusted Lorna with his life on multiple occasions, and he had never been let down. He had come out of it alive and knowing more about the strange girl with green hair who wore her father's colors like a shield.

The more she'd talked though, the more he'd gotten the feeling that she had seen a Brotherhood that was very different from the one that he had seen. He'd wondered if he was missing something, at least with some of the members. Part of him had even wondered if Azazel and Magneto had changed, were not the people that they once were. Perhaps the Brotherhood was, whether they knew it or not, becoming a little gentler.

Then he had seen what Mystique had done to Black Tom. Personally Alex had hated the man, part of him wishing that he had killed him years ago and saved Terry from years of abuse, possibly getting her back to Sean sooner. However, he knew in his heart of hearts that he would never be able to do it. Killing in revenge was something that Charles had managed to instill in him as wrong. There was a line there, and Alex refused to cross it.

Mystique had crossed it without a thought. He'd remembered then why he didn't trust the Brotherhood, why they would never be able to trust them. They had done too much, ruined too much, to ever be able to make up for. Alex did not want to be with people whose sense of right and wrong was so ridiculously warped. It had made him angry for thinking that things were different.

However, he remembered Lorna's expression when Mystique had murdered Black Tom. She'd looked shocked and horrified. No matter what had happened that day, she had not expected it. Alex wondered just how many lies she had been fed, how much she had believed just because her father had told her.

Despite the fact that Lorna was perhaps one of the smartest people he had ever met, she was still ignorant of what was going on. She was a warrior, but an innocent. Alex knew that she didn't want it to be that way, and that she hadn't gotten to that point by herself. He wished he could do something, but he had already extended an invitation to leave the Brotherhood that he'd known she would reject. He didn't blame her. They were her family after all, even if it was a family built on lies.

"Alex, I need to talk to you."

Alex turned around and saw Charles in the doorway. He shoved his thoughts about Lorna to the back corner of his mind. He knew that Charles wouldn't read his mind without his permission, but he also didn't feel comfortable thinking about Lorna around other people. It troubled him, but the quick talk he'd had with Charles several months ago at the end of the mission was all that he'd permit himself.

Charles's words filtered through his mind. He thought back to when he'd seen Moira crying the previous day and worry stole over him. Had something happened to her? He knew that he should have pressed her, but he'd never seen her break down like that before. He'd seen her red-rimmed eyes when Maeve had died or shining eyes when she'd held David for the first time, but never a break down.

"What about?" he asked.

"Warren," Charles said.

Alex blinked. He hadn't expected that. However, if it had to do with the winged mutant, then he knew that it couldn't be good. Sighing once he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked down at the simulation. They were almost done. He'd need to stall. He dialed the difficulty of the simulation up a notch before he turned to Charles.

"What about him?" he asked

"I had my advising with him a few days ago," Charles said, "It appears that he's…unsettled."

Alex glanced back at the simulation. Warren was doing well, dodging bullets and giving aerial reconnaissance.

"His father giving him trouble again?" Alex asked.

"Yes, but I don't think that's the problem," Charles said.

Alex turned his back on the simulation.

"What do you think the problem is then?" Alex asked.

"Well," Charles said, "he appears to be under the impression that he's only second best. In everything."

"Second to Scott you mean," Alex said.

Charles nodded. Alex sighed again. It was a familiar frustration, one that he had felt ever since he'd made his decision regarding the leadership of the X-men after he stepped down.

"Scott's not going to be the next leader of the X-men because he's my brother," Alex said, "He's going to get the job because he's dedicated, hard-working, clever, and an exceptional fighter. His leadership skills are top-notch-"

"Alex," Charles said, raising his hand, "I'm not questioning you about your choice in a successor."

Alex nodded. At least there was that settled.

"I actually approve of your choice," Charles said.

Alex managed a grin.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes. Scott is the best choice," Charles said.

Alex's grin widened. He couldn't help but feel pleased and proud. Pleased because of the confirmation, proud because it was his brother that they were talking about.

"So I'm not questioning you about that," Charles said.

"I'm glad," Alex said.

Charles nodded.

"I am, however," he said, "wondering if there isn't something we can do for Warren. He's always had…inferiority issues on the team, both because of how effectively he used his mutation and his father."

"Wish his father would learn to shut his damn mouth sometimes," Alex said.

"Alex, language," Charles said.

Alex laughed.

"I'm not fifteen anymore," he said.

"It sets a bad example," Charles said.

Shrugging Alex leaned against the control panel. Charles cleared his throat.

"Either way, I'm starting to wonder if what happened with Jean and Scott acted as a catalyst to those feelings," Charles said, "He's managed to keep a lid on them for some time, but I am worried about those feelings coming to a head."

His tone was concerned. Alex scratched his chin. There was some truth in what he said. He'd long known that Warren was jealous of Scott, although he doubted the rest of the team knew. Resentment didn't mean much, but when snap decisions and cooperation were an intrinsic part of your life, it could add up. Alex wasn't sure how they should go about handling the problem though.

"Short of removing him from the team," Alex said, "what do you think I should do?"

"Perhaps show that you value him a little more," Charles said.

"What?" Alex asked.

Charles put a hand to his temple, rubbing it up against what was left of his hair. Alex had noticed that it was thinning now. He supposed that it was the stress.

"There are several things that you can do," Charles said.

Alex gestured with his arm.

"I'm open to suggestions," he said.

"To start with, he is always given the second assignments," Charles said, "Just try to give him some more responsibility."

Alex tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Okay, I see how that would work," Alex said, "They're all shit at flying the Blackbird, but he might-"

"Alex, again with the swearing," Charles said.

"Again with the me not being fifteen," Alex said.

Charles chuckled.

"Alright, alright," he said.

"He's alright with the Blackbird," Alex said, "But if I were to put some pressure on him, then he'd probably improve. It would be nice for him to be a co-pilot. Jean isn't bad but…you know how she can get when she's worried."

He saw the shadow coming over Charles's brow.

"Has she had another episode?" he asked.

Alex winced. Ever since Jean had hit sixteen she had, on and off, displayed disturbing bursts of power. They seemed to come on in times of intense stress, but she never seemed to remember them afterwards. Alex had discussed taking her off the team multiple times with Charles, but they couldn't afford to do so. Not with her medical and telepathic skills. Having her off the team would be more of a liability than her on it.

"No," Alex said.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm just not sure that I feel comfortable with her being the back-up pilot in the Blackbird," he said, "Ororo isn't bad but, like I said, I could put Warren into that role."

"Good," Charles said, "And beyond that, you could show him that you could try to show him you value him in other ways. Give him longer critiques for instance."

"They don't want my critiques to be longer, trust me," Alex said.

"I mean just talk to him more," Charles said, "It's the easiest way to show that you value someone, to take the time to notice them."

He became quiet, his expression distant. Uncomfortable, Alex cleared his throat. Charles looked up, his eyes snapping back to Alex.

"In any case," he said, "This isn't something we can allow to go unchecked. Beyond that you'll need to have a talk with Sean as well."

"I understand," Alex said.

He glanced back down at the team. They were still battling their way through the final level of the simulation. He had time.

"Charles, I was wondering…" Alex said.

He trailed off.

"Yes?" Charles asked.

"Um, I was wondering if something was wrong with Moira," he said.

Charles frowned.

"Why?" he asked.

"Yesterday I…I saw her crying," Alex said.

Charles's face changed, his entire stance tensing.

"What?" he asked.

His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"She'd broken down," Alex said, "She wouldn't tell me what it was about, but it wasn't nothing. Has she been ill or something?"

He knew how he sounded, his words clunky. Charles hid his face for a moment and Alex felt that something was definitely wrong. He shifted from foot to foot.

"Charles?" he asked.

Charles shook his head.

"It's nothing Alex," he said, "Nothing at all."

"It doesn't seem like that," Alex said.

Charles shook his head again.

"I don't feel like discussing this with you," he said.

Alex narrowed his eyes as Charles began to wheel himself out of the room.

"I hope you discuss it with her at least," Alex said.

Charles looked over his shoulder, his expression a mixture of anger and anguish. Without another word he wheeled himself out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

August 27, 1974

"Is that all you've got?"

Lance looked up at Lorna, wiping his lip. She crossed her arms and cocked her head. In the two weeks that she'd been training her team, she'd learned a thing or two about them. Lance was the most likely to keep charging at his target. It was both brave and stupid, something that she wanted to reinforce in him.

"Is that all you've got?" she repeated.

Looking angry Lance got back to his feet. Lorna smiled and Tabby cheered from her place on the sidelines. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Toad looked excited too, but Senyaka was impassive. He was having more trouble than the others at cooperating as a team, but she had hopes that it would come in time.

At least Toad and Tabby were standing by their fellow teammate. Lorna turned her attention back to Lance.

"Good," she said, "You got back up."

He lifted up his foot to stomp it, but Lorna stopped it by kicking him in the chest. He tumbled onto his back and Lorna placed her foot on his sternum, her toes lightly brushing his throat. Tabby's cheers grew silent and she saw Toad's excitement fade. Lorna removed her foot and took a step back.

"But sometimes that doesn't help like it should," Lorna said.

Lance sighed and got back up. She looked him over. He had bruises on his arms and chests, but she hadn't drawn blood. She didn't want to overdo it.

"When you can't do something yourself," Lorna said, "Don't be afraid to call your teammates in."

"We're allowed to do that during training?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Never know until you try," Lorna said.

"Okay," Lance said.

He wiped his lip again and gave her a strange look. It made Lorna uncomfortable. She tilted her head to the side.

"Something you want?" she asked.

"Lots of things," he said, "Not right now though."

He moved off of the mats and stood by Tabby. She looked up at Lorna, her expression nervous.

"Your turn Boom-Boom," she said.

Tabby sighed and got onto the mats. There was something in her posture that made Lorna frown.

"Have you done your exercises?" she asked.

Tabby scrunched her eyebrows for a moment before sighing.

"No," she said.

Lorna rubbed her temples.

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me," she said.

Tabby brightened.

"But I'm also pissed that you didn't listen," Lorna said.

She put her hands on her hips and let her eyes trail from Tabby to the rest of them.

"Listen up," she said, "You're all on probationary status right now. None of you have been cleared for field work, and you're not going to be cleared until I endorse you. And I'm not endorsing you until I'm satisfied that you're not going to go out and get yourselves killed in the first five minutes of a fight."

She tilted her chin.

"And right now, I'm only satisfied that you'll last two minutes," Lorna said, "I'm not having your blood on my conscience, do you understand?"

There were a few nods.

"So I suggest you all start taking this seriously," Lorna said, "I suggest that you learn to work together, and you learn to do so quickly."

She stepped back.

"I'm not sparring with you today," she said.

Tabby looked surprised.

"I'd wipe the floor with you," Lorna said.

She saw Tabby's face fall, but Lorna didn't know how else to put it. She shook her head.

"Do your exercises, and we'll talk tomorrow," Lorna said, "Like I said, you need to take this seriously if you don't want to spend the rest of your life relegated to breaking codes when you can be fighting for our cause."

Tabby swallowed, looking uncomfortable. Lorna wished that she could dial it back, but she had to learn.

"All of you, take three laps around the inside wall. Boom-Boom, take five," Lorna said.

Tabby didn't look at her as she stepped off the mats. Lance cocked his head as he followed her out. Toad just sighed as Senyaka followed. Lorna waited until they were out of the room to let out the breath that she was holding. She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes.

"Well, that went well."

She looked over her shoulder. Mystique stepped into the practice room, her lips turned up in amusement. Lorna looked at her, wary. Ever since Azazel's death the two had kept their distance from each other. She knew that Mystique blamed her for Azazel's death. Lorna had been over that night a million times in her head while she'd been imprisoned by Black Tom, and she knew that there was nothing that she could have done though.

She had come to terms with that. Mystique hadn't.

"You know, new team," Lorna said.

"Poor leadership," Mystique said.

Lorna rubbed her temples.

"I'm not getting into this right now," Lorna said.

"It's not like you have anything better to do," Mystique said.

"Anything is better," Lorna said."

Mystique laughed.

"You really think you're above all of this, don't you?" she asked.

"Above what?"

"Above fighting with team members."

Lorna pursed her lips.

"No," she said, "But I am above fighting with a grief-stricken woman who's only response to her pain is to pick a fight."

She looked over at Mystique who stared at her with wide, angry eyes.

"Hate me if you want," Lorna said, "I don't mind that. You need someone to be the scapegoat and it might as well be me. We've never really gotten along. But for God's sake do it with a little more subtlety."

"Why, am I hurting your feelings?" Mystique sneered.

"No, because my father won't tolerate it," Lorna said.

She realized she'd said the wrong thing as Mystique's eyes narrowed.

"I'm so sorry about disturbing Daddy's girl," she said.

Lorna caught Mystique's fist as it came around. She leaned in, her teeth gritted together. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Angel start to come in, no doubt ready for her afternoon exercise. She stopped when she saw the two of them and edged out of the room. Lorna was glad. She could handle this.

"Think real hard Mystique," Lorna said, "Think about if this is what you want."

She let go of Mystique's arm, shoving her away from her. She turned around, listening to see if Mystique would try to follow her, if her words had any impact at all.

"You're just collateral damage in the grand scheme of things!" Mystique screamed, "You don't matter!"

Lorna continued walking , once she had gone a few hallways down, pinched her nose. Her body was trembling and she had to take deep breaths. Alex's words echoed in her mind.

_ "Do you know what collateral damage really is?"_

"Not now Scholastic," she murmured.

His words continued to echo in her ears.

_"It's destroyed lives and caused unaccountable anguish that could have been spared if more care had been taken. And because we take that care we can avoid collateral damage. Anyone who doesn't uses it as their own personal shield against their guilt, not caring when the world burns if it gives them what they want."_

She shook her head one more time before she walked down the hall, continuing to take deep breaths.

* * *

"I'm not some errant school girl that you can just call in like this!"

Erik glared at Mystique, one of his hands clenched into a fist by his side.

"You tried to attack my daughter," he said.

Mystique laughed, the sound bitter.

"I wonder, just when did Angel stop being my friend and turn into Lorna's nanny?" she asked.

"She's not her nanny."

"Really? She certainly acts like it, reporting anyone who hurts little Lorna's feelings to her father," Mystique said.

Erik clenched his teeth. There had been two people in the Brotherhood that he had trusted Lorna with. One was Azazel, and the other was Angel. He knew that they had both cared very much about what happened to her from the moment they had both seen her, Azazel seeing her as a representation of the next generation and Angel as a girl whose life should have been different.

He had never fully trusted Mystique with her.

"Unlike you, Angel believes that it is wrong to try to harm people for no reason," he said.

"Angel's enthralled by Lorna, treats her like she's her pet," Mystique said, "So do you."

"Lorna is a strong individual, strong enough to take abuse from you and then shrug it off," Erik said, "She didn't even want me to be angry at you when you attacked her months ago."

Mystique snorted. Erik shook his head. He'd been unable to have a full conversation with his former lover in almost eleven years. She had never wanted to talk to him. He'd understood: the termination of their relationship had been quick, sudden, and he was aware that it had also been rather brutal.

However, part of him didn't see how else it could be handled. Lorna had come into his care, a shell-shocked child with amazing abilities. He was the only one that she had in a world that had, in the past few weeks become a nightmare for her. Her mother was gone and any friends had turned against her.

As for Erik, she was the surprise of his life. He'd never thought that he would see Susanna again. In some of his stranger dreams he had envisioned seeing her in a comfortable home with brilliant children and an adoring husband. It was a life that she deserved and a life that he'd known he would never be able to give her.

Instead he'd found her living on the brink of poverty in a rented shack with one daughter and everything against them. He'd been too late to help her though, far, far too late. Then there was Lorna, a child named after his own mother. He would never be able to make up for what she had lost. However, he knew that he could do right by her.

Asking Mystique to act as a surrogate mother to the child of the only woman he'd ever loved was wrong though. Mystique had never wanted children, and he knew that Azazel'd had that conversation with her many times. She had also been suspect of Erik's affections, a correct suspicion it was proved, and hadn't wanted that responsibility.

So he had ended it. He should have never let it begin. However, he knew that Mystique had been hurt and disliked Lorna ever since. Now she was blaming her for the death of the man that had trained and mentored Lorna. Azazel's affection for Lorna was probably just another insult.

Erik was done trying to fathom what went on in Mystique's mind though. He was through trying to be understanding. Lorna had been in danger from many things in the past, from humans to Black Tom and the X-men. He would not have his daughter under threat from his own soldiers though.

"If this continues," he said, "You can leave."

Mystique's lip curled into a snarl, but Erik held her gaze. He would be sad to see Mystique go if that was what she chose. She had always been a good soldier and tactician. However, his daughter meant more to him than she did. It was why their relationship had ended in the first place.

"If you need time to mourn, then go and take it," Erik said, "Tell me a period of time and go. Come back if you want. But whether you go and come back or stay, I will not permit this."

Mystique's golden eyes bored into his own, but she should have known better than to try and stare him down. She looked away, her lip still curled.

"I want two weeks," she said.

"Two weeks," Erik said, "That's reasonable. Will you be leaving immediately or-?"

"Immediately," Mystique snapped.

She turned away and walked out of the room, the door slamming behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

August 29, 1974

"Congratulations. You've just blown up the whole damn plane," Alex said.

Warren winced and bit the inside of his cheek. He knew that the rest of his teammates were watching him, waiting for their turn on the Blackbird simulation.

"I thought that would turn on the thrusters," Warren said.

"It was the wrong button," Alex said, "Pressing that along with the fuel light makes the fuel dump into the combustion engines. Hence you blowing up the plane, yourself, and probably half the Institute."

Warren winced again, wishing that Sean were there. He was never as demanding as Alex was, and he would act as a kind of filter to Alex's comments. However, he knew that he was out with his daughter. Warren wanted to begrudge him that, but he'd been the one who carried the frightened little girl to Sean. They needed time together. It was plain to see.

At the same time, he didn't know why Alex getting on his back about flying the Blackbird. He had become harder on him in the past few days when it came to the simulations. Warren wasn't sure why he bothered: he already had Jean trained to the point where she could fly if there was an emergency.

Still, he knew that he wasn't allowed to question his orders.

"Try the one on the left," Alex said.

Warren pressed the button on the lift and the simulator shook. He looked up at Alex, who nodded in approval.

"Now take her out," he said.

Taking a deep breath Warren pulled the controls back. He felt the simulator rumble and, for a moment, he wondered if he was going to crash again. However, the rumbling went away. The simulator smoothed out and, a minute later, he saw an image of the sky light up on the simulator screen. Warren grinned.

"You've mastered take-off," Alex said, "As long as you don't blow the thing up in five minutes."

Fighter jets appeared on the side of the plane. Warren moved to open communication channels, but he saw that one of them fired. He gripped the controls instead and moved to avoid them. It made a screeching noise, but he managed to get away without the missile making contact. He opened the communication channels.

"This is a civilian aircraft-" he said.

They fired again. Warren turned the plane to the side.

"Engage or run?" Alex asked.

Warren looked at the fighter jets. He switched on the thrusters.

"Run," he said.

He pushed the controls further. To his relief and joy he felt the simulator move forward smoothly. A few minutes later the planes disappeared from the radar.

"Good choice," Alex said, "We can't have the military after us because we blew up their planes."

He clapped a hand on Warren's shoulder.

"Good job," he said, "I think I'll let you fly it next time."

Warren looked up at him, surprised.

"Not for very long," he said, "But still."

Warren grinned.

"Thank you sir," he said.

Alex grinned back and jerked his head backwards. Warren unbuckled and got out of the seat. Ororo gave him a thumbs-up as she got into the pilot's seat. He sat back in one of the passenger's seats and buckled up. Ororo began to flip on the switches under Alex's watchful eye. She was just about to do the last one before the door opened and Moira walked into the room.

"Alex, do you have a minute?"

"In the middle of something," Alex said.

"It's important," Moira said, "And it's kind of for the whole team."

He sighed and looked at Ororo.

"You can restart the sequence in a minute," he said.

Ororo frowned and pressed the 'off' button. She exchanged a frustrated look with Warren before they turned to Moira.

"At the end of last year a couple of you applied for the conference on Mutant Rights in New York City," Moira said, "Which is in a few days."

Warren felt a lump in his throat. Why did this have to be now? He'd been feeling good, and now that was about to be ruined.

"And you know that they only accept two delegates," Moira said, "And there were three applicants. They couldn't take everyone, and I'm sorry about that. I think all of you deserved to go."

He bit the inside of his cheek. It appeared that some deserved it more than others.

"The conference came back to us today," she said, "It accepted Jean and Warren."

Warren blinked. He heard someone congratulate Jean, saw Ororo flash him another thumbs-up. He felt his muscles tense as his head shot up.

"What?" he asked.

"They asked for Jean Grey and Warren Worthington II," Moira said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Moira smiled gently and nodded.

"I'm sure," she said.

Warren bit his lip to keep from crying. For once in his life someone, somewhere, had seen him as better than Scott. He couldn't believe it. He knew that his grades were a little better than Scott's, but still, he knew that Scott led more teams than he did. Perhaps the 'Genetics Club,' as the X-men sometimes called themselves, didn't amount to much in the eyes of the conference selection committee.

He felt a hand clap on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Alex standing there.

"Why, does it strike you as sounding strange?" he asked.

Warren managed a smile.

"No sir," he said.

"Good," Alex said.

He turned to the rest of the group. Warren noticed that Scott's smile looked a little forced. He knew that it shouldn't, but it filled him with a deep satisfaction.

"Alright, congratulations to our representatives!" Alex said.

There was a smattering of applause. He heard Ororo whistle and Warren managed to grin at her.

"It's on September third," Moira said, "So all of you pack up, alright?"

"That's pretty short notice," Jean said.

"It's the conference's first year," Moira said, "I imagine they'll smooth these things out later."

She looked up at Alex.

"Try not to wear them out between now and then," she said.

"I make no promises," Alex said.

He turned back to them.

"Speaking of which," he said, "Ororo, you're up."

* * *

"They're going to need a chaperone," Moira said.

Charles nodded. They were standing at opposite ends of the room. David's fever had broken, but it was his nap time. She wished he were there. Charles was always in a better mood whenever she was with David. However, if they were going to have another fight then she would just have to be prepared. David couldn't see that.

"I know," Charles said, "I don't think that Sean or Alex would work though. With Warren and Jean missing, we'll need them here in case the X-men are needed."

"Agreed," she said.

She swallowed. She didn't want to say what she was going to say next, but she knew it needed to be said.

"It should probably be me," Moira said.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable.

"I'm the only one available," Moira said.

"But still," Charles said, "What about David?"

"He can't come with me," Moira said, "There's too much going on there, too many reasons why taking him so far would be bad."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Charles said, sounding snappish.

She sighed.

"I figured that you could take care of him for a few days," Moira said, "The conference is only three days long after all. It'll be one day to travel up there, and one to travel back. I'll be gone for a grand total of five days. You won't even miss me."

Moira turned away.

"Not that you would."

There was a silence.

"Moira…that's unfair."

She looked over her shoulder at Charles, saw that there was some pain there. Good. It meant that he felt something about their situation .She hadn't just imagined it the last time that they had fought. She could use this, work with it. It meant that what she was about to suggest next might have a positive outcome.

"Charles, I've been doing some thinking lately," Moira said, her voice quiet.

She saw Charles tense, his whole body going rigid. The words that she had carefully rehearsed in her head seemed paltry and crude now that she actually had to say them.

"We both know that our marriage...well...it isn't what it was," Moira said, "And I think that it's time that we discussed this."

She turned. Charles gave her a weak smile.

"You sure know how to start an afternoon," he said.

Moira closed her eyes before walking over to his desk. She had to keep the desk between herself and him. If she didn't there would be no buffer, no way for her to shield herself against the emotions that she was feeling. She had to keep her distance. It was the only way that she could force herself to do what needed to be done.

"Things have been bad lately," Moira said, "You know that."

Charles sighed and nodded, steepling his fingers and resting his head down on the perch that they formed.

"David's getting older," she said, "We can't hide our problems from him forever. I don't think that we can even hide them from the boys much longer."

Charles nodded, their unspoken agreement to keep their marital problems quiet finally acknowledged.

"I don't want my son growing up in this kind of environment," she said.

"I understand," Charles said, "My parents..."

He looked away. Moira's heart broke for him. She knew that his parents had argued for years before his father had died. After that his mother had become a distant figure. If it hadn't been for Raven, he would have grown up completely alone. Moira felt angry at putting him through this, but she didn't know what else to do.

"David deserves better," Charles said.

"He does," Moira said, "And...more than that Charles, we deserve better."

He tensed even further, his eyes closed.

"Charles, it doesn't have to be this way," Moira said.

"You said it yourself," he said, "It already is."

She reached out and touched his hand. He looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"When we got married," she whispered, "I said until death do us part. I meant that Charles. I..."

She took a deep breath.

"I still do," she said, "But I need to know that you'll fight for us, for what we are. Because I don't know how this happened. All I know is that I can't fix this alone."

"It's not my fault," he said.

His voice sounded weak. Moira increased her grip on his hand. Words wanted to gush out of her mouth, to rail at him for not spending time with her and David, for putting his work before them. However, now wasn't the time. She had to get him to agree to what she wanted first, had to get things to work.

"I don't think it's anyone's fault Charles," Moira said, "But we need to fix it."

She looked down.

"My going to New York can be a good thing," Moira said, "It will give us time apart to...to think on things."

"Think on things?" Charles asked.

Moira nodded.

"While I'm gone, think about what you want," Moira said, "And when I come back, tell me what you've decided. And…we can figure out what to do from there."

She squeezed his hand.

"Please, think about it," Moira said.

Charles closed his eyes and looked down. Moira let go of his hand and left his office. She didn't look back, didn't cry. She couldn't risk it.


	10. Chapter 10

August 31, 1974

Sharon cooed and pawed at the air. Hank leaned over the side of the cradle, brushing her cheek lightly with his furred finger. She reached up and batted at it, her tiny fingers uncurling slightly before curling back up. She pedaled her feet a few times in the air, almost as though she were about to turn on her back, although Hank knew that she couldn't turn over yet. She pawed at his hand again, her fingers curling and uncurling.

Hank smiled. He knew that she was still too young to grip things either. Still, he couldn't help but watch for signs of growth in the tiny child. He tucked her pink blanket around her, making sure that she was well-covered. Once he was satisfied he picked her up.

She blinked at him, her eyes growing wide for a moment. Then she started to cry. He rocked her side to side.

"Shhh," he said, "Just getting you ready to go out. Nothing to worry about. It's just that we need to get going. Car rides, as you'll soon find out, are best gotten over with quickly."

He shifted her again and her crying quieted. She blearily looked at him through her leonine eyes, the earliest sign that he could see that his daughter would take after him. Still, she was very young. Sharon had every chance of getting her mother's beauty instead of his awkward looks, how he'd been before blue fur had covered his body. It appeared that she already had much of what his mutation could offer her.

Sharon sighed and turned her head into his shoulder. Hank smiled and brushed a kiss against her forehead.

"Is she ready?"

Hank inclined his head as Carly walked into the room. He frowned when he saw that she was carrying a suitcase. She caught his expression and cocked her head.

"Moira helped me pack up," she said, "It was kind of her, considering that she's got two teens to get ready for a conference."

"I'm not surprised at your quickness," Hank said, "Carly, you shouldn't be straining yourself."

She laughed and put down the suitcase.

"It's a little late to worry about me," Carly said, "I already carried this over here."

"Did you carry that up the stairs?" Hank asked, dismayed.

Carly laughed again and shook her head.

"I carried it down the hall," Carly said, "I'm fine."

"You just went through an intensive day-long labor," Hank said.

"You make it sound like it happened yesterday," Carly said.

"And you make it sound like it was last year," Hank said.

He gestured for Carly to take Sharon.

"You hold her," he said, "I'll take our things."

"I can manage just fine," Carly said, "You know that I can."

"Please?" he asked, "Once we get back to Rhode Island you can stress yourself all you want. For now though, I'd like to do something for you. No matter how small."

Carly smiled and set down the suitcase. She held out her arms and he transferred Sharon to her. Their daughter curled up in her mother's arms, her face somewhat grumpy at being moved so much. Carly readjusted her blanket before looking up at Hank.

"Ready to go back?" she asked.

Hank paused and looked around the small nursery.

"Sort of," he said.

Carly cocked her head.

"Sort of?" she asked, "That's not much of an answer."

"I know," Hank said, "Believe me, I know. It's just that...well..."

He shrugged.

"I have a lot of good memories of this place," he said, "Memories of acceptance, of family, both old and new."

He reached out and touched Carly's cheek.

"And I hope that, well, I hope that one day Sharon can have those kinds of memories here too," he said.

Carly nodded.

"People might say that it's a little early for us to go around considering schools for her, but it's difficult not to when we know people in the business," she said.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hank said.

He shook his head.

"But, well, Sharon is going to be looked down on for her mutation," Hank said.

Carly frowned but Hank shook his head again.

"Not everyone is like you Carly," he said, "You know that."

"I do," Carly said, "But that doesn't mean...not Sharon..."

Her voice faltered. He understood. It was hard to think of someone trying to hurt or hating their small daughter, a child who couldn't even focus her eyes yet.

"Take it from someone who knows," Hank said, "People will look down on Sharon. They may hate or pity her. Neither is good, although personally I prefer pity to hate. It's less likely to result in violence."

He sighed.

"But Sharon already has advantages," he said, "She has parents who love her more than anything, and that's not something that all mutants get. Especially ones with physical mutations."

He thought of his own parents before shoving the thoughts aside. He had to move past that.

"And she has a safe place to go no matter what. She knows people who will fight for her, defend her," Hank said, "Which is, again, more than most mutants have."

Sharon wriggled in her mother's arms. Hank leaned down and kissed her forehead again.

"I hope that I'm going to be wrong about that by the time she's old enough to notice," Hank said, "It's one of the reasons why I want to continue doing politics, the hope that I'm going to be wrong, that no one will care when she gets older, goes out into the world. That and..."

He closed his eyes.

"...that and the hope that I can make the world a little brighter for her," Hank said.

His eyes met Carly's. He saw that her green eyes were swimming in tears.

"It's already a brighter place," Carly said, "How can it not be, with people like you in it?"

He wrapped his arms around her.

"People like us," he said.

* * *

"Lorna, can I talk to you?"

She didn't need to look to see who had spoken.

"I'm sorry, but I'm kind of busy right now father," Lorna said.

Her father sighed and shook his head.

"You've already beaten him," her father said.

Lance struggled in the headlock that Lorna had put him in. Lorna rolled her eyes and released him.

"Another minute and he might have gotten out," she said.

"And you would have snapped his neck between now and then," her father said, "Point proven."

She shrugged.

"He was struggling pretty hard," Lorna said, "I might have been thrown off my guard."

She grinned at Lance, who smirked in return. Her father raised his eyebrows.

"Unlikely," he said, "but I needed to talk to you in private."

Lance rolled his eyes and left the room, rubbing his neck where Lorna had held him. She turned back to her father, who watched Lance leave with suspicious eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Training hours, as I recall, have been over for two hours," he said, "At least for them."

"He wanted extra practice," Lorna said.

"I'm sure," her father said.

There was something in his tone that Lorna didn't like.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," her father said.

"Father, that look means something," Lorna said, "I'm not stupid you know."

"I know you're not stupid," he said.

"Then what on earth are you thinking right now?" Lorna asked, "I mean, it's good that one of my team members actually wants extra practice. It might only be because he got embarrassed getting creamed every day, but it's a start."

"I'm sure," her father said.

"Cut it with the cryptic comments already," Lorna said.

He sighed.

"I just want to make sure that young Lance is aware of boundaries," he said.

Lorna frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. After a few minutes her eyes widened in shock.

"You can't...you're not talking about..." she said.

She wrinkled her nose.

"It's not like that father," she said.

"Just making sure," her father said.

"I don't like him like that," Lorna said.

"I'm just a concerned father watching out for his daughter," he said.

"I'm nearly twenty-three," Lorna said, "I can figure these things out myself, thank you. And I figured out that I don't like him like that. Besides, he's what, eighteen?"

"Twenty-one," her father said.

"Could've fooled me," Lorna said, "He's pretty immature for twenty-one."

Her father smiled.

"I'm just keeping an eye on the future," he said, "Which brings me back to what I originally wanted to talk to you about."

He glanced back at her.

"I was wondering, do you think that your team is ready for a little field experience?" he asked.

Lorna put her hands on her hips.

"How intensive?" she asked.

"Nothing too complicated," he said, "A little surveillance. I'm curious about something, but I don't think that our alpha team should be concerned with it. You know how they get when I have them do trivial things, especially now that we have a beta team."

Lorna nodded. She knew that simple surveillance jobs left members of the Brotherhood irritated, Janos and Emma especially. Angel was the only one who never seemed to mind. Angel and Azazel. He had always accompanied her whenever they had to trail someone or find out more about an area. A pain began in her heart, but she couldn't express it. Not with her father there.

"So you think that it would be good for them to get some time in the limelight?" Lorna asked.

"Yes," her father said, "As I said, nothing too extensive, but still. They should have something. And there should only be combat involved in this if something goes very wrong. I just want to know if you think they're ready for it."

She put her hands on her hips and thought.

"I think so," Lorna said, "The biggest challenge will be keeping them in line."

"It shouldn't be too hard," her father said, "Especially considering where you're going."

"Which is?" Lorna asked.

"Some conference on mutant rights in New York City for students," her father said.

Lorna had to struggle to keep from widening her eyes. Alex was near there. Alex, who probably knew the troubles she was having. Alex, who would probably just continue to argue for the X-men, plant more doubts in her mind. She couldn't see him.

"It's a low-key area," her father said, "I just want to see what the future generations are discussing. It shouldn't be anything you can't handle."

Lorna swallowed and squared her shoulders.

"You're right," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

September 2, 1974

"And remember, if anyone tries to give you their opposing viewpoint, hit 'em once for me," Alex said.

"Alex!" Moira said.

Alex grinned and Moira saw Warren grin back. Charles shook his head. Alex, along with Charles, Sean, Terry, and the X-men had come to see them off. Hank and Carly would have been their with Sharon, but they had arrived in Rhode Island days ago. Moira was happy for them. They were starting their new lives, a new chapter in their marriage. Moira just wished that her own wasn't ending.

They hadn't left yet, but there was one individual who already felt like he was being left behind. David stood between his parents, his eyes wide and confused. She had the unhappy feeling that he didn't really understand that she was leaving. Even if he did she was sure that he didn't understand why.

She felt awful. It would be the first time that she had left David since he had been born. Moira wished that she could tell him that it wasn't forever and, really, it was for the best. Charles and she needed to be apart for a few days, figure things out. That way they could think clearly.

It was difficult to express that to a three-year-old though. She didn't want to tell him either. If it felt wrong to talk to the boys about it, then it certainly felt wrong to tell her son what was going on. It was one of the reasons that Charles and she had to figure things out. They had a son to consider.

"So this is what you teach them when my back is turned," Charles said.

"A little," Alex said.

He looked back at Jean and Warren. Moira wondered how he felt about seeing two of his students dressed in crisp business attire, a far cry from their X-men uniforms. She could see in his eyes that he knew that they were still going into battle. The only things that had changed were the methods of attack and the armor.

"Stay safe, you hear?" he said.

They nodded. He looked over at Moira.

"You too, okay?" he said.

Moira nodded, smiling.

"I think that the worst thing that could happen is an irate delegate throws a temper tantrum," Moira said, "Don't worry about us."

"Whatever," he said.

Moira smiled and looked down at David. He looked up at her, blinking. Without warning he grabbed onto her pant leg. Her mouth opened slightly as her son buried his face in her leg, his grip tenacious.

"David, please let go," Moira said.

He dug into her pant leg tighter.

"Dad, is he okay?" Terry whispered.

"He's fine," Sean said.

Moira sighed and cleared her throat.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm just going away for a little bit. I'll be right back."

He shook his head. She felt like throwing her arms into the air. To her surprise she watched as Charles gently pried him from Moira and smiled.

"Your mother has to go away on some business," he said, "She'll be back soon, alright?"

David's face fell but he nodded. He turned his sad eyes to Moira and she crouched down in front of him.

"Your father's going to take good care of you," Moira said, "He cares very much about you. Don't worry."

It was one of the only things that she was sure about in her marriage. Moira knew that Charles loved their son. She knew that, on some level or another, he still loved her too. The only question was whether or not it was enough to save their marriage.

She kissed David on the forehead and looked up. Charles was staring at her. She wondered if he would tell her something telepathically before she went. Moira remembered a time when she could feel the touch of his mind like a caress. She remembered when there were times when they wouldn't have to speak, when their minds had been open books to each other. He would make her life from halfway across the building.

Moira remembered Charles's joy when she told him that he could come into her mind, that she wasn't scared. She knew that no one had ever trusted him that much. To her it was another kind of intimacy, one that she was glad to share with him.

He hadn't sent a thought to her in over a year. She wondered if he had done it to give her her privacy as their marriage declined. In some ways she appreciated it. In other ways she missed it, just like she missed his conversation and knowing that he loved her.

"See you in a few days," she said.

Charles nodded. Moira took a deep breath and turned back to Jean and Warren. Jean looked nervous, constantly straightening her hemline of her skirt and the cuffs of her blouse. Scott was standing next to her, smiling. She couldn't hear their conversation, but she knew that he was whispering encouraging things to her.

Warren was absolutely beaming with confidence. She could see Ororo with him, her smile cheery. Clarice was in the middle of it all, smiling but not saying much. She had always been quiet.

"Come on," Moira said, "We're going to miss the train if we dawdle for too much longer," she said.

They nodded. Scott hugged Jean once before she got into the car. Warren walked around to the other side, waving to his teammates once before getting in. Moira climbed into the driver's seat.

After she buckled up she looked out the window. She could see Westchester before her, the grounds sprawling out in all directions. She remembered the first time she had seen it, remembered walking inside as the new Mrs. Xavier. She could recall a thousand happy memories with the people assembled on the lawn, a thousand triumphs, heartaches, tragedies, and miracles.

Now she was leaving. When she returned she would find out whether or not she could continue to call it her home. The thought was a chilling one and Moira bitterly regretted thinking it. However, like many things, it was too late to take it back.

She took a deep breath before waving and starting up the car. She pulled out of the driveway, looking at the house and the assembled team out of her rear view mirror. Moira hoped that it wasn't the last time she would leave the house as Mrs. Xavier.

* * *

"Do you think everything's alright between them?" Sean asked, "They just seemed so...awkward this afternoon."

Alex paused the cup of coffee halfway to his lips. Sean and he were in the teacher's lounge. It was approaching midnight, and Terry had been put to bed. They'd received word that Moira and the others had safely made it to New York City. They had just finished some paperwork, and Alex had been looking forward to some rest.

Instead he put his cup of coffee down. He walked to the door to the lounge and glanced outside it. When he was satisfied he closed the door and turned back to Sean.

"Something's wrong," he said, "And not normal wrong either."

Sean frowned.

"Really?" he said, "I didn't think it was that serious."

"I saw Moira sobbing in the hall a few days ago," Alex said, "I'd say that that's pretty serious."

"Oh," Sean said, his eyes widening, "Are you sure it was about-?"

"Pretty sure," Alex said.

Sean leaned against the table, as though seeking support.

"It's hard to think of those two having marital problems," he said.

"I know, right?" Alex said, "They always seemed like such a tight team."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"And maybe that's part of the problem," he said.

"What do you mean?" Sean asked.

"Well," Alex said.

He searched for words, wishing Hank were there. He would be able to find the right thing to say.

"I'm just thinking that maybe they've been a team for so long that they've forgotten how to be married," Alex said.

His friend stared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sean asked.

"Well, they're like a business partnership," Alex said, still fumbling for words, "Maybe...for so long its been the school this and the school that and they haven't really had time to figure out what they meant together."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

"And even if they are still in love, even if they do care about each other, or even if they're not sure about what exactly it is that they're feeling, well..." he said.

For some reason a pair of green eyes flashed at him from his memories. He swatted the image in his mind away irritably. Lorna had been bothering him a lot recently, the Brotherhood friend that part of him bitterly resented making.

It was an awful irony that, despite all of the things that he had learned about the Brotherhood, he was now friends with the woman he was sure would one day lead them. Beyond that, the first leaders of the X-men and the Brotherhood were friends. He had the awful feeling that the second leaders were going to follow that trend.

In some ways he was glad that he was handing the reins over to Scott in a few years. His brother wouldn't have the same kind of weakness in him. At the same time, that meant that one day Lorna would be trying to kill Scott and Scott would be trying to kill Lorna.

It wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Sometimes it's difficult to figure out," Alex said, "And if it's difficult to figure out, it might be best to just dismiss it. Nothing good can come of that sort of thing anyway."

He opened his eyes. Sean was still staring at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

Alex shifted his feet, cursing himself for rambling.

"Something like that anyway," he said, "I don't know much about this sort of thing."

"But, they were in love," Sean said, "Do you remember when they got married?"

"That was a decade ago," Alex said, "People change."

He picked up his cup of coffee. It had grown cold. He dumped it down the sink.

"It can't be divorce level though," Sean said.

"Why not?" Alex asked.

Once more Sean stared at him. He saw his friends lips move inarticulately.

"Because they can't get divorced," he said.

"Who said that?" Alex said.

He knew his voice as snappish, that he was shocking his friend. For some reason he couldn't seem to stop himself, although he wished that he could.

"Just because we don't want something to be true doesn't mean that it isn't," Alex said.

Sean furrowed his brow, looking at Alex warily.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Alex said.

"Are you sure?" Sean asked.

Alex rolled his eyes.

"Never mind," he said, "I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep before classes tomorrow."

As he walked out of the door he heard Sean mumble:

"I'll take that as a no then."


	12. Chapter 12

September 3, 1974

"This place is awesome," Warren said.

Jean smiled at Warren as she readjusted the cuffs to her blouse to make sure that they were exactly the same length. Scott had told her that she didn't need to do it, but she couldn't help it. The nerves were bubbling under her skin as they wandered through the conference center, booths set up and discussions filling the air.

It didn't help that this was her first time in New York City. Jean had always declined field trips, staying behind to learn more from Hank about doctoring. She had come from a quiet town and the idea of lights and noise hadn't appealed to her. She had realized just how much she'd been missing out when they arrived.

It was exactly as big and busy as she'd thought it would be. She had nearly been run over three times on the way to the convention center. However, she was standing in a room filled with people willing to discuss mutant equality. She had been selected to represent her school in the city of the United Nations. Jean wasn't scared by all the people. Instead, she felt oddly comfortable.

She looked over her shoulder at Moira, who began shuffling inside her purse.

"Alright, you two have your money in case you want any snacks or anything right?' she asked.

"Yeah," Warren said, still looking around the center.

"And you have your maps?" Moira asked.

"Yes," Jean said.

"Both of you?" Moira asked.

"Yes mother," Warren said, rolling his eyes.

Moira folded her arms.

"When you get lost in an unfamiliar convention center in an unfamiliar city, don't come crying to me," Moira said.

Warren rolled his eyes again, but didn't say anything.

"Now, you're meeting me at five for dinner in the main hall," Moira said, "I'll see you at table 12. That's ours."

"Got it," Jean said.

"Alright," Moira said, "You two go and have some fun, okay?"

"We will," Jean said.

Moira nodded and walked off. Jean watched her go. For months she had gotten the strangest feeling that something was wrong with Moira. Whenever she'd try to express how she had an idea how people felt to the professor, he'd told her that it had to do with her telepathy manifesting itself.

She couldn't tell feeling without any conscious thought, and it did take some effort. The only reason she'd tried in the first place was because she'd seen Moira act odd from time to time. So Jean had reached out slightly, not enough to see her thoughts, but enough to get an idea if something was wrong.

For the longest time she had felt a great sadness from Moira. Jean wished that there was something she could do about it, but she also got the feeling that Moira didn't want to talk about it. She had considered saying something to the professor, but she'd felt the same sadness rolling off of him as well.

Uncertain of what to do Jean had remained silent. The feelings had become increasingly strong since they had come to the conference though. Jean couldn't say how the professor felt, but there was an alarming amount of anxiety mixed up in Moira's sadness. Once more she wished she could do something, but she had no idea where to begin.

Next to her Warren walked up, his expression bright. Jean wondered if she should tell him what she was thinking. She soon dismissed the idea. She had learned the hard way that you couldn't have too many close confidantes. Warren had been shorn off the list when he had gotten into a fight with Scott when she had started going out with him.

Their wounds had healed, but there were still scars. Jean smiled, trying to mask the small flicker of discomfort that she still felt around Warren. She wished that things were different, but they weren't. As such she had to hide her feelings from a boy who had once been her best friend. She'd had to pick her priorities, and she cared more for her relationship with Scott than she did for Warren's friendship.

At the moment she had managed to maintain both. She hoped that she could continue to do so. Jean knew that Scott, despite his protestations otherwise, was uncomfortable that she was going to the conference with Warren. It was irrational to feel like that, and she knew that Scott knew that.

However, common sense and feelings didn't always talk to each other.

"Ready to go exploring?" Warren asked.

Jean inclined her head.

"Sure thing," she said.

* * *

Moira walked outside of the convention center, taking deep breaths. She couldn't help the tremble of anxiety she felt. At that moment Charles was thinking about whether or not their relationship was worth salvaging, whether or not he would fight for it. It was something that he had to do alone, but the idea of not knowing what he was thinking was driving her insane.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Why had she asked him to decide? Part of her was angry, angry that she couldn't be happy with what she had and move on. She could have continued on pretending as though nothing was wrong. Then she wouldn't have the burden of knowing.

Besides that, what about David? If Charles didn't want to continue their marriage, then their son would suffer for it. He would grow up without both of them constantly at his side. He would have to be ferried back and forth between them. The thought made a sob rise to her throat, but she choked it back down.

There were more questions. If Charles did say that he wanted a divorce, would she leave Westchester? It would be his house, not hers. She had worked for the school for over a decade. She couldn't imagine leaving it, leaving the dream that she had started to build for mutants.

At the same time, the two of them would need their space. In time she would probably be able to come back and resume her duties at the school. Charles wasn't the type to keep grudges. He couldn't even get angry at the sister who had abandoned him when he needed her most.

It was the time away that she was worried about. She could take David with her, but she didn't want David to be tossed from parent to parent. More tears welled behind her closed eyes but she took another breath. She managed to suck them back, putting them behind the wall that she had built for the sake of her own sanity.

Part of her was angry even for giving Charles the choice. If she was willing to fight for their marriage, then she could fight alone. Charles seemed to have sunk into a kind of apathy, and she could fight apathy. It wasn't beyond her. She knew that she could use what she had and try to wage a war for her marriage.

It had taken her a long time to realize that she couldn't do that though. A marriage was a union between two people. Both of them had to want it. It had to be a mutual decision to keep it going. Charles had to want to be with her for the rest of his life, to continue to love her, if he still did.

Moira felt lost. There was no one to turn to for advice. Instead she was left in a situation that was out of her hands. If she returned and Charles told her that he wanted a divorce, then she would argue with him, try to change his mind. Of course she would. Moira wouldn't be able to help it.

However, knowing that she was in a marriage that her husband didn't want would, eventually, be enough to do her in. She would leave because, as much as she loved Charles, she wanted him to love her too. She wanted him to care about her, about what they had built together, their life, their partnership, their son. Him caring about any of those at all might be enough to save their marriage.

At the same time it might not. She didn't know what he was feeling or thinking. It should have been the easiest thing in the world for her, and at one point it had been. Now it was gone, and if he didn't want to be married to her, then it was going to end. Moira could do many things, but she couldn't be with someone who didn't want her to be his wife.

Her mind echoed her wedding vows, ones that she knew were common but binding. She had told him that death itself would be the only thing that would part them. At the time she couldn't imagine how she wouldn't be telling the truth with those words. Now Moira wished that she wasn't going to be made into a liar.

She took another breath before turning and walking back into the convention center.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it's them!"

Lorna sighed and looked over at the two teens that Lance was pointing at. She shrugged, tucking a stray piece of her blonde wig behind her ear.

"So?" she asked.

"So?" Lance said, "That's Archangel and Marvel Girl."

"Keep your voice down," Lorna murmured.

Lance turned away from them. Lorna wondered where Tabby, Toad, and Senyaka were. She hoped that they were having a more productive day than she was.

"They're X-men," Lance said.

"Congratulations on looking at the briefing slides," Lorna said, "But I fail to see your point."

Lance gaped at her. She could tell this would take more than just a few brief words. She motioned away from the booth that they were at and towards a side hallway. When she was sure that no one had followed them and they were alone, she turned to him. She could see that he was still confused. Lorna searched for the correct words, stamping down the urge to just smack him.

"The X-men are at a mutant peace conference," Lorna said, "Seeing them here means nothing."

"It most definitely means something," Lance said.

She nodded.

"You're right."

His eyes lit up in triumph before narrowing in suspicion. He wasn't dumb enough to fall for that. Good.

"Of course," Lorna said, "It means that they're doing exactly what we'd expect them to do. You're only stating the obvious."

"That's not what I was saying," Lance said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"What were you saying then?" she asked.

He gestured around him.

"They're here," he said, "Probably without back-up."

Parts of Lorna's brain shut down. She clenched her jaw and counted to ten before answering.

"Are you suggesting that we attack them?" Lorna asked.

"Look who's stating the obvious now," he said.

Lorna stared at him, her brain flipping back on and heating up. She struggled to keep her expression icy.

"Let me get this straight," Lorna said, "You want us to attack them at a conference for mutant equality while they're minding their own business, ignoring the additional fact that a strange story like that will be on the news and give a twisted image of us?"

Lance frowned. He opened his mouth but Lorna cut him off.

"You sonuvabitch," Lorna said.

He blinked, looking offended.

"Hey, no need to get-" he began.

"I don't know what group that you think that you're with," Lorna said, "but the Brotherhood isn't filled with monsters. The last members who went after X-men outside of combat ended up getting taken off missions for months. One of them turned out to be a psychotic killer that we had to take down."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she had to say it. She had to make sure that he understood what he was suggesting. Her mind went to Alex, of his low opinion of the Brotherhood's honor in battle. No wonder he thought so little of them when there were members who would casually suggest attacking the X-men at a conference.

As with most thoughts that included Alex, it bothered her.

"So you think very hard about what you suggest," Lorna said.

Lance glared at her, but his eyes glinted at the same time. His look made her uncomfortable, and she hated feeling like that.

"Do you understand?" she snapped.

He nodded, the strange glint still there.

"Now let's get back into the conference center," Lorna said, "And don't you dare leave my sight once we're in there."

He nodded again and Lorna turned on her heel.

"Good," she said.


	13. Chapter 13

September 3, 1974

"-and they all lived happily ever after," Charles read.

"Always," David said.

Charles swallowed and ruffled his son's hair.

"Always," he said.

David snuggled under the covers as he settled in for his afternoon nap. It was a little past one in the afternoon, but David had begged to be read to. It was hard to deny him that. Charles folded his hands and stared at his son. He looked very much like him, his face already giving hints of what he would grow into. He'd been given his father's blue eyes, that had been apparent since his birth. Other features had been less obvious, but they had become apparent in time.

However, he also had enough of Moira in him. He could see his son's auburn hair growing in, his skin a softer version of his mother's. There was something in the nose too. Charles had prided himself on being able to point out his wife's features in David to others. He'd been adamant about them to Moira when David had first been born.

Charles sighed and turned away. He left the room and wheeled down the hall to his office. He locked the door behind him. Now that his son was asleep, classes were over, and the X-men were training, he had some time to himself. There was no more time to run from his fears, nothing left to distract him. Nothing should have distracted him in the first place.

He closed his eyes. Moira's words to him had been in the forefront of his mind since she had spoken them. It had only been a day that she had been gone, but he missed her. Her words were also becoming heavier with every second. He'd known it was coming, known that Moira wouldn't put up with his lack of care for very long. He knew that she deserved more than that, but he had hoped that he'd had more time.

He'd also been surprised. He'd expected that her confrontation would come in the form of a sheaf of papers requiring his signature, papers that would give her her freedom. She would leave Westchester and find some place far from him, but close enough to continue to be a good mother. It was likely that she would get custody of his son. She would find someone else and move on.

The idea of her with another man made his blood boil, but what else could he do? Charles was well aware that Moira wasn't the type of woman to be shoved away, and he knew that he'd been doing exactly that. Ignoring their problems wasn't making it better. He'd known for months that Moira wasn't going to tolerate what he was doing for much longer.

And yet he hadn't done anything. He'd just sat back and waited for things to take their course. He felt surprised at his own lack of action, his own resignation to what he believed was the inevitable. At the same time though, he'd felt that there was only one outcome, that there had only ever been one outcome when she had married him. She would leave him one day.

He had thought, originally, that it would have been over the lack of children in their lives. Moira had wanted children and Charles had known that he would be unable to give them to her. He had tried to tell her that when their relationship had become serious. It appeared that she had already thought of that, had already decided to adopt when the time came.

Instead she'd given birth to a boy. It had been an unexpected and surprising miracle. He still remembered the day that David was born, remembered her cries and the worried faces of the doctors. He'd been so scared that he was going to lose them both. Charles had been prepared to force the doctors to let him in when one of them caved.

He bowed his head, ashamed. How had he digressed from being willing to violate his own personal beliefs on mutations for his wife to watching with apathy as she slipped away? It had only been a few years. Charles dug his fingernails into his forehead, right underneath his thinning hair.

Moira was right. Something had happened to them. He'd thought long and hard about it since she had spoken to him. They both knew something had gone wrong. The only difference was that he knew exactly what it was that had happened, and it was his fault. It made him feel even more ashamed because, instead of giving him the divorce papers like he knew he deserved, Moira had wanted to give him a second chance.

He rubbed his temples. He knew that Alex, Sean, Hank, and all the rest of his students saw him as some great man, a man with a vision to help mutant kind. He knew that they saw him as a strategist, a man who could no longer lead from the field, but led nonetheless. Charles knew that they saw him as intelligent, an eloquent speaker, someone that they could depend on.

In the end though, he knew who he really was. He was a bad son, a boy whose mother had shunned the very sight of. Charles was a failed friend and a terrible brother. How else could he have managed to lose his only real friend? Why else would his sister leave him, never even once looking back? He had tried, he had failed, and his failures had been complete.

On top of all that, he couldn't even walk anymore. He was a good teacher, and that was it. He'd come to terms with it when he'd sent Moira away. What could he offer her? Charles had seen the love that had began in her mind, and he knew that he could return those feelings, that they could be something that he had never had before. Then he would hurt her and ruin everything. Just like everyone else, she would leave him. It was better for him to send her away then to allow the inevitable to take its course.

Then she had returned. She had been angry, and he'd understood. At first he'd hoped that it meant that she wouldn't try to love him. Nothing good ever came of that. He'd been wrong. He'd tried to dissuade her, but against his better judgment, he'd allowed her to convince him otherwise. He'd managed to put his fears behind him and marry her. For years he'd lived happily, sure that he'd been wrong.

When David had been born he'd started to feel that fear creep up again. If he failed as a husband, that was one thing. It would be shameful, but it was different from failing as a father. The fears had returned and, scared that he would do something, he had started to distance himself from both his wife and young son.

And she had noticed, just like he'd known that she would. He'd been trying to push her away, both through conscious means and unconscious ones. He'd denied what he'd done, afraid to make himself too aware of his fears. It was easier to get angry, to ignore the fact that he was hurting the people who mattered the most.

The only thing that he hadn't really thought about was Moira. She was a fighter. Instead of wanting him gone she had told him that she still loved him, that she was willing to continue after everything. However, she had to think of David. He had to come first in her mind, and she couldn't let him grow up in a household where his parents no longer talked to each other.

He gripped the arms of his wheelchair. Why did he have to continue to be the failure? Why did he have to push away the one person who had been willing to take him as he was? No one had wanted him just for him. His mother had wanted a less bookish son. Erik had wanted a more militant friend. Raven had wanted a brother who was willing to burn the world for her. None of them had wanted him for him.

Moira had though. She had taken him with his faults and failings. Moira had accepted that he didn't hate his friend or sister, even after everything that had happened. Him being a mutant hadn't fazed her. She had accepted him as a man who couldn't even even carry her over the threshold on their wedding day. He was a man who, until a few years ago, they had thought that he couldn't even give her children. It hadn't mattered. Everything that he was, everything that he wasn't, she had accepted.

In return he had pushed her away. He had consistently put his work in front of her and the son that they had managed to have. He hadn't appreciated her presence, the constant and silent support that she had always given him. He hadn't even recognized the mercy that she had shown him in not discussing their problems with Alex or any of the others. She hadn't wanted to make it real either.

He took a deep breath. How could he not want her? How could he not want a woman who stayed, understood, and fought? He'd understood that she was an amazing woman for years. It turned out that he hadn't understood just how amazing she was though, how deep her loyalty and love ran.

Charles wanted to fight, wanted her to stay. He wanted to forget everything that he feared and focus on the love that they shared. He wanted to ignore the past few years, to start again. He wanted to tell her everything that he had felt, to apologize for it all. Charles had wanted to apologize for a long time. He just couldn't find his voice to do so.

He opened his eyes. Charles gripped the arms of his wheelchair even tighter, his knuckles turning white. He would have to find his voice. The next time he saw her, he would tell her everything. Charles didn't care what he had to do to force the words from his lips. He didn't care if he choked on them as he came out.

He had kept his inadequacy inside himself for years. Charles hadn't been able to break through his mother's self-loathing and over-indulgence in her partying lifestyle. He hadn't been able to fight hard enough to keep Erik from giving into his darker nature. His inactions to see what Raven had wanted and needed had led to her leaving and never coming back. It meant that he had failed her too.

Charles hadn't been able to fight for any of them. However, if there was one person he would be able to fight for, it was going to be Moira. He was going to succeed where he had failed before. She was his wife, his second half, and probably the only person who could even begin to understand him. There was no front he had to put up for her. He would have to understand that and beg her forgiveness.

He leaned back in his wheelchair. She would forgive him. It was in her nature. The rest of the fight would be following through with what he said. He had to begin a plan to hand over more of his classes to Alex, to put some of the school's burden on others. Sean had come back to work there. He might not stay forever, but they could use him for a while. He would have more job duties, giving Charles more time.

He would give Moira more time too. They would be able to be a family for the first time in years, a real family. He would do things with his wife and son, would make time. It was going to be difficult, but he was going to be a husband and a father again. He couldn't let Moira or David go, couldn't see them leave his life.

He felt like a fool for letting things continue on for as long as they had but, no matter how much he wished otherwise, he couldn't change the past. He just had to make sure that the next few years weren't like the last. Moira had taken a gamble when she had married him. He couldn't let her think that it had been for naught.

Charles wheeled himself over to his desk. He had to get started. There was a lot to be done if he was to save his marriage. He was determined to win though. Out of ashes he had built a school and a safe haven for mutants. Surely he could save his marriage to the only woman he had loved enough to give her all of himself.

There was still a chance.

* * *

"Should we move in?"

Sinister tapped his chin as he looked at the conference center. He looked down at the clipboard that one of his men had stolen. It seemed that most of the talks were scheduled in another hour. A half hour after that it seemed that everyone would be in one conference room or another.

"No," he said, "We'll wait for another hour and a half. Start securing the perimeter, and then move from there."

He pressed the cold metal of the clipboard to his lips and grinned. It was all coming together. He knew that not everyone inside the conference was a mutant, but enough of them were for things to work out. The only other place that they could get so many mutants together was Westchester, and they certainly didn't have the firepower or strength to take the Institute.

If they did, he'd have already gotten a perfect specimen in the younger Summers. He had to be grateful for what he had though.

"Hold position," Sinister said.

The guard nodded at him. Sinister put the clipboard down. He walked towards the back of the room in the office building. He'd been watching the conference center for a few days. He could see that a few protesters had gathered outside it an hour ago, but it was for the best. He'd already had a few men disguise themselves as protesters and report back.

He turned left and came up on a reinforced door with a panel on the wall. He punched in the access code and the door swung open. He walked up to a dark safe. It was tall, but it had to be. He could detect the faint whirring of refrigeration. Sinister had been worried that his men would be too clumsy to put the delicate piece of machinery in place. He had watched them like a hawk, but it appeared that they were at least a little competent.

Locking the door behind him he spun the dials a few times. Inside a refrigeration unit burned out twice the cold of a normal one. He'd had to design it himself. A great deal of careful preparation work had been put into just making sure that he could safely transport his masterpiece, let alone make it.

He put on a glove and reached out for a delicate vial. Inside he saw black sparks inside the simmering liquid. He could already feel the heat coming up through the glass. He smiled at it adoringly. With very gentle movements he put it back in the refrigeration unit and closed the door. He twirled the dial a few more times and shut the safe.

It was ready. In a few hours he'd have enough data to move forward. He unlocked the door to the room and locked it again behind him. Taking off the glove he stuffed it into his pocket before he walked to the window. Once more he could see the conference center that would have the honor of being his testing grounds.

He couldn't wait.


	14. Chapter 14

September 3, 1974

"You wanna go to this one?" Warren asked.

Jean looked at the title of the conference and frowned.

"It's just another genetics class," she said, "We already have plenty of those."

"Might be interesting to have another point of view on it," Warren said.

Jean shook her head.

"This is our last class before we have to go meet Moira," she said, "I don't want to waste it on something I've already heard."

"Okay, okay," Warren said.

He gestured around them.

"Where do you want to go then?" he asked.

Jean frowned and looked at the list of lectures.

"How about McCoy and Baulson vs. the FDA?" she asked.

Warren grinned.

"Now who wants to listen to something we've already heard?" Warren asked.

"Apparently it talks about the application of mutant rights in the workplace," Jean said, "And how they're considering adding a specific amendment to the constitution concerning mutants."

Warren paused.

"Okay," he said, "That one actually sounds interesting."

Jean nodded.

"I thought you would like that one," she said.

She looked further down the hall. Everyone was filtering into the different rooms. She grabbed Warren's arm, trying to hurry him along.

"I think it's down here," she said.

Warren blinked at her, and Jean suddenly realized that she was still holding onto his arm. She wanted to blush and let go. It was the first time that they had even casually touched since she had gotten together with Scott. However, she had to pretend that things weren't weird. It was the only way that she could get through everything.

"Come on," she said, "We're going to be late."

She dragged him slightly. He hurried to keep up with her.

"You're excited," he said.

She shrugged.

"I wouldn't want to miss anything," she said.

* * *

Sinister looked at his watch, licking his lips as he waited. It was so close, all of it was just within his reach. All he had to do was wait a little longer.

"Permission to move in sir?"

The crackle from the radio was annoying. He felt like it was destroying the rhythm, the aura of delicious anticipation.

"No," he hissed, "I'll tell you when."

He had to be precise. There couldn't be any delays to destroy his perfect plan. It had to run like clockwork, perhaps a bit more to his liking than the watch though. He couldn't afford to have anything go wrong. To his delight he saw the final second tick by. He looked over the conference hall and smiled.

"Now," he said.

* * *

"-and we believe that the changes in the human genome first started making themselves known in the late 1940's."

Lorna looked away from the presentation, bored. She couldn't believe that it was standing room only for this presentation. She felt the urge to go up to the presenter and tell him that he was an idiot, that mutants had been around for much longer than the 1940's. He wasn't even counting the Invaders, and she knew for a fact that certain members of that team had been mutants.

However, she knew that drawing attention to herself would be a bad idea. She had already told Lance to keep a low profile: she couldn't go around contradicting herself so blatantly. At the same time she wondered if she should include the presenter's lack of knowledge in the final report to her father. It was certainly telling.

She yawned and shifted her feet. She gazed out the window. As she did she thought she saw movement. Lorna frowned and edged a little closer to the window. She could have sworn that she had seen someone standing there. Lorna continued to look at the spot, but she couldn't see anything move.

However, she decided to watch for a little longer. Azazel had always taught her to search for longer than anyone would expect. She'd found out more things about the way that people hid and concealed themselves by watching for an extra minute than she had in all of her classes with the Brotherhood.

She saw another flicker of movement. Suspicious, she crept up to the window. She could hear Lance's footsteps falling on the ground beside her. She jerked her head towards the window. Lorna ran her fingers alongside the frame, feeling for the metal. She felt it and forced the window open, peering outside.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Lorna ignored the presenter. She leaned out the window. With her vantage point she was able to see the heavily armed soldier who stood there. For a minute they stared at each other. Then he leveled his gun. Lorna scoffed. It was made of metal. She flexed her fingers and the gun crunched in on itself.

She stepped back from the window and willed the metal towards her. It was time to stop being subtle. The solider barely fit through the window frame. He crashed onto the floor, scattering the audience. He slammed into the floor and Lorna walked up to him, Lance trailing her closely.

Lorna kneeled down next to the guard and grabbed him by the front of his collar. She pulled his face close to hers.

"Alright asshole," she said, "I'm going to ask you this once. Who are you? FOH? Sapien League? Huh?"

The man started to laugh. Lorna glared at him.

"I can kill you right now you know," Lorna said, "Half your gear is a playground for me, do you understand that? Who are you and where are the rest?"

He laughed again. A moment later the window on the other side of the room shattered, and three more soldiers crashed in. Lorna reached out for the metal in their guns, but to her surprise found very little. She snarled to herself. It seemed like the soldier she had attacked was the exception for weaponry. Why were people learning so fast about metal guns?

They still weren't thinking about their environment though. They were in a room full of folding chairs. Metal ones. The chairs began levitating around the room, battering the soldiers. Lorna had to direct them so that they were gentle enough so the soldiers didn't die, she might need them for information later and their deaths would be unnecessary, but it was easy.

As she finished she realized that she hadn't received any help. She looked over to see that Lance was pinning down the first soldier. Everyone else had fled the room. Although some of them had been humans, some had been mutants. They could have fought back, but they had chosen to run instead.

The thought made her angry, but she had to forget it. Lorna pulled off her blonde wig and tossed it on the floor. She knelt by the first soldier again.

"Tell me," she asked, "who are you working for?'

He shook his head.

"The future," he said.

"Wrong answer," Lance snarled.

Lorna looked at the man in front of him. She understood the glint of a fanatic when she saw it. She had learned to tell a true fanatic from one that would crack. They weren't going to learn anything from him without the aid of serious torture. Lorna wasn't going to cross that line for a foot soldier.

She lashed out with her fist, knocking him out. She guided the metal chairs around the room, turning them into bindings for the soldiers. Lorna got to her feet and walked to the window. She looked down and saw several other soldiers advancing towards the building, shoving protesters out of their way.

Lorna pulled herself back.

"We need to get our gear," she said, "And then we need to find the others. Right now."

* * *

The noise was almost deafening. Jean was sure that she could hear shooting further down. Someone knocked her to the ground. She struggled to get to her feet and avoid people who seemed more than willing to trample her. She felt an arm grab hers and pull her to her feet before jerking her into a side hallway.

She looked up at Warren, who peered at the flood of people.

"Something's gone really wrong," he said.

"You're telling me," Jean said.

She swallowed and looked down at herself. She was wearing a pencil skirt with a pretty but professional blouse. Jean had been wearing heels at one point, but they had been lost in the ensuing stampede. Warren was wearing a suit that was now torn, the fabric rumpled almost beyond recognition.

It was not an ideal situation.

"Warren, we don't have our uniforms," she said.

He nodded. It was more than just the protective cloth that they were without. They were without their utility belts, filled with an array of lock picks and flares. They were without radios, without any real way to contact their back up, which was now miles away instead of being close.

"Kind of makes me nostalgic for the Danger Room sessions," he said.

"Right now we're in a danger center," Jean said.

She looked around the conference center. The flood of people heading for the exit hadn't been stymied.

"Do you think you can contact the Professor?" Warren asked.

"My range isn't that good. I'd need to find a quiet place to concentrate, and this definitely doesn't fit the bill," Jean said.

"Alright," Warren said.

He looked at the fleeing people at the end of the hall. Soldiers were gathering there to try to block the exit. They shot into the air and the people stopped, looking frozen.

"What's our next move?" he asked.

Jean swallowed.

"We need to figure out a way to contact the others," Jean said, "Emergency protocol."

She bit her lip.

"Then we need to find Moira."

* * *

Moira leaned back in her chair and checked her watch. Warren and Jean would be arriving in half an hour. She needed that time to calm herself down. She had quietly gone to another room to get her feelings under control after she'd returned to teh center. It felt almost as though she were about to be sick just thinking of what waited her back in Westchester.

One of the windows to her left shattered. She immediately ducked and rolled under the table. Moira heard each consecutive window shatter, one after the other. A few pieces of glass skitted their way beneath the table cloth. Moira closed her eyes and put her hands over her head until it was over.

When the noise ceased she moved to the edge of the table. Moira wondered if the noise had something to do with the protesters she had seen begin to gather outside of the conference. Seeing a group of heavily armed soldiers was not what she had expected. Moira watched them as they began to surround the other chaperones and a few of the early students who had come into the dining room. She saw a group of wait staff backed into a corner.

A hand grabbed her wrist and she was jerked into the open air. A soldier stared at her with amusement. Moira didn't waste time. She reached behind her for a table setting. They hadn't put out steak knives, which was a pity in hindsight, but something was better than nothing. After a second she came up with the fork. It wasn't perfect, but in some ways it was better than the butter knife. At least this had some prongs on it.

She stabbed it into his wrist. He howled and let go. Moira dropped to the floor and kicked him in the legs. He fell and Moira slammed her elbow into his throat, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She got to her feet, only to find another soldier pointing a gun at her.

Moira glared at him, panting. She curled her hands into fists.

"Now now, we don't want to damage the data. Now- goodness, is that Moira Xavier?"

Moira whipped around. Red and black eyes stared at her and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"They killed you," Moira said, "Twice."

"They tried," Sinister said, "Now, I must admit, I didn't see this coming. A Westchester faculty member, here for my little party."

His eyes lit up and he grinned.

"How wonderfully exciting."


	15. Chapter 15

September 3, 1974

Warren and Jean ran up the stairs. They had been relatively fortunate: no one had noticed them. Warren could hear the sounds of a fight going on downstairs. He hoped that none of the students had been stupid enough to try to fight the soldiers. They didn't have the resources, had no training. He doubted that most of them had the barest idea of how to use their mutations.

He forced open a door to a room. Most of the walls were made of glass. Below them he could see sirens coming. He wondered how the soldiers planned on stopping them. However, they had just launched a full-scale invasion of a conference center. People who did that sort of thing had a plan for when the police showed up.

He saw Jean settle herself onto the floor and lean against a wall. She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Warren.

"When I go out," she said, "I'm not going to be able to help you if anyone comes after us. You know how I get when I have to concentrate."

Warren took off his tie and shrugged off his sports coat. He'd figured as much. He began to unsnap his harness. He hadn't been able to wear a suit without it on.

"I can manage for a few minutes," he said, "You go and tell the Professor, okay?"

Jean nodded. She took a deep breath and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. He flexed his wings, straightening some of the feathers. Warren walked up to the door and took one of his cuff links off. He slipped it into the lock and twisted it until he felt the metal snap off. It was one of the first things that he'd learned, how to jam a door lock.

He stepped back and stared at the door. It was wooden with metal hinges. It would give if someone gave it a few good kicks. The soldiers looked more than capable of giving those kicks. It wouldn't hold forever, but he could fight them when they came if Jean still wasn't back up. Beyond that he could only hope that they were trying to take them alive.

Warren glanced back at Jean. Her head had slumped forward. He hoped that she was making contact.

* * *

Jean could feel everyone's thoughts pressing in on her. She could vaguely hear Warren's worry, hear the way he was gearing up for battle. She could hear the fear from the students below stairs, the calm confidence of the soldiers. Jean couldn't distinguish them very well, but they pressed in on her mind, sending sharp pains shooting through her brain.

She wanted to take a deep breath, but she was too disconnected to do anything other than her normal functions. She hated this sort of awareness, hated the way that it pressed in on her and forced her to be aware of everything. When she was younger it would happen sporadically. She would run to her room and throw her pillow over her head, burying her head into the mattress in an attempt not to hear anyone's thoughts.

Her parents had been at their wits' end. They knew she was a mutant, knew that her powers were different than anything they could understand. Jean had been worried that she would never be able to live her life outside of her house, afraid that she would levitate something without meaning to, of hearing far too much.

Then the professor had come and helped her. She had managed to keep the buzz down, to only let in what she wanted. She could levitate things at will, although it was becoming difficult for her now. Jean wanted that control though. She didn't want to let anything to rule her, wanted to know that she had choices.

Jean had to let herself drift away when she was in her current state though. She had to take herself out of the proceedings. If she didn't then she wouldn't be able to pull away from their area. Westchester was far away, and she needed to tell the professor what was happening. After that they could try to find Moira.

She felt herself drift slowly but surely away from the conference center. She knew that she was going in the direction of Westchester. It was her psychic center. The professor had told her that it was the place that she was grounded to, that so much of her memories were tied up in the school, that so many people she cared about were there.

Jean felt the thoughts of the people in the conference center die down. She could hear the thoughts of people travelling in cars, hear them complaining about traffic. Jean tried to urge herself to go faster. The thoughts hurt more when she did so, as though they were tiny needles being put into her head.

The professor had never had any of these problems when he used Cerebro. He could reach out to Jean from halfway across the world if he wanted to, and he never showed any signs of discomfort. She hoped that things would be better once she reached him. He was stronger than she was. He would know what to do.

* * *

Warren could hear footsteps in the hall. He pressed himself up against the wall and glanced at Jean. She was still in her trance.

"No one would be up on this level."

Warren forced himself to breathe quietly as he heard the soldiers walk by.

"Well, he told us to make sure the place was secure. The others have their hands full with the cops right now."

So they did have a plan. He saw the shadows move in the gap between the door and the floor. Warren tensed himself. Maybe they would pass by.

"Try the door."

So much for that. He watched as they jiggled the doorknob.

"It's locked."

"None of the doors are supposed to be locked."

"It's not like any of the students could have locked it. They're all mewling downstairs, cryin' for their mommies."

Warren gritted his teeth. He had seen the students downstairs. Some of them had been as young as fourteen. Warren had been fifteen when he had started training for the X-men. The professor had told him that the way of life that he had chosen was not for everyone, that some people would need protection because they couldn't fight back. They weren't soldiers, they were just people interested in living their lives from day to day.

It disgusted him to hear people who had chosen the normal, peaceful path that part of him coveted berated. He itched to fight the soldiers, but he had to keep hoping that they would pass by. Warren was good in combat, but he needed his team with him to take care of a large crowd. If there were more than five of them then he wouldn't be able to take care of them. And there had been a lot of footsteps.

"Best not take any chances."

"Come on, we're missing the action!"

"Do you want to be the one to explain that the sample size decreased?"

Warren frowned, uncertain at what that meant.

"Fine. I'll break down the damn door. Happy?"

"Pretty much."

He heard the footsteps retreat, probably to get a running start for the door. Warren felt his feathers unfurl. He was ready.

* * *

Jean could feel the familiar psychic territory of Westchester wrap around her like a blanket. She dived in, briefly feeling the different minds. Everyone's minds shone, their thoughts beacons. She knew them all, and the professor had told her once that it made their thoughts seem more appealing to her. It was difficult not to touch any of their minds, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to stay in them long if she did. She wouldn't be able to warn them, to tell them that Warren and she needed back-up.

So she continued searching. More minds called out, beckoning her. However, one called to her like a beacon. She could hear the pulse of his thoughts, even though they didn't have any substance. Jean reached out to his mind, feeling the shining circles of the professor's thoughts intersect with her own.

_Jean?_

She smiled, despite the situation.

_It's me. _

_ What's wrong? _

She sobered quickly.

_Some soldiers broke into the conference center_, Jean thought, _There are a lot of them, and they're well equipped. They've surrounded the building. _

_Are you hurt? Are you safe?_

_Warren and I are unhurt, and safe for the moment_, Jean thought.

She could feel his thoughts tremble.

_And Moira? _

_ We haven't been able to find her. We were supposed to meet her for dinner, but then this happened. _

His thoughts became shot with pain and fear. It subsided, but it was enough to make Jean slip on her already tenuous hold. She held on by her fingertips.

_Professor, we need help. We need the rest of the X-men. _

_ We'll be there immediately. _

Jean let herself drift off. As she began to return to the conference center, she had to wonder on his choice of words. He hadn't said that he would send the X-men, or that Alex would be there. He said that 'we' would be there.' It could only refer to the fact that he was part of the X-men, but his reaction at hearing Moira was in danger told her differently.

* * *

The door broke inward. Warren grabbed the first soldier and threw him headfirst into the wall. He shot at him but Warren dodged and took to the ceiling. He had to keep them away from Jean. She was defenseless in her current state, and he knew that she would be dazed for several minutes after she woke up.

Warren saw that, despite that only two soldiers had spoken, there were easily four. He knocked the gun out of the hand of the first one and kicked him in the nose. The nose crunched in and blood dribbled down the man's chin. Another soldier shot at him and Warren flung the soldier in front of him, using him as a shield. The beam shot into the soldier's shoulder, burning it. He cried out as Warren threw him to the ground.

Another soldier grabbed him from behind. Warren threw his elbow out, catching him in the stomach. He tucked his wings in, allowing him to bring his leg around and kick him in the ribs with greater force. He saw a fourth one bring his gun around, only to be stopped when someone tackled him, bringing him to the ground and smashing his face in.

He saw the fifth soldier take aim at the man, only to have his gun yanked out of his hands. Magnetrix hit him over the head with his gun, bringing him to the floor. She threw the gun aside and kicked him in the face. Magnetrix adjusted her coat before looking down at the other man, who was still hitting the soldier in the face.

"Lance, stop it."

Lance stopped and got up, wiping his bloody fists on his pants. Warren felt his hands clench into fists as three other figures joined the first two, a girl with blonde hair, and two men he recognized as Senyaka and Toad.

"Archangel," Magnetrix said.

"Magnetrix," he said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Fighting," she said, "I thought that was obvious."

She looked passed him to where Jean was beginning to get up. Warren rushed to her side. He saw her eyes widen at the members of the Brotherhood.

"What do you want?" Warren said.

Magnetrix sighed.

"Look, I have a lot of respect for your teachers, so I thought you would be quicker on the uptake," she said.

"You shouldn't," Lance said.

"Shut up," Magnetrix said.

She walked up to Warren, her arms crossed. Warren placed himself between her and Jean, his eyes blazing.

"Listen, these people are attacking mutants," Magnetrix said, "And that concerns us. Right now neither of us has the back-up that we want. And as irritated as I am to have to do another team up with you a mere six months after the last one, we kind of need to do it to survive. Do you catch my drift?"

Warren looked at Jean, who gave a slight nod. He sighed.

"Yeah, I do," he said.

"Good," Magnetrix said.

She looked them over.

"Not exactly dressed for combat, are you?" she asked.

"We were here for a conference, not a mission," Warren said.

Magnetrix smiled. Senyaka gave a dry chuckle and the blonde girl blew a pink bubble. Warren helped Jean to her feet, still glaring at Magnetrix.

"That's the difference between the X-men and the Brotherhood," she said, "Everything's a mission for us."

"Then when do you get to live?" Jean asked, her voice soft.

For a minute Warren thought he saw a shadow pass over Mangetrix's face. Then she shrugged.

"This is our life."


	16. Chapter 16

September 3, 1974

"Charles, no."

"This isn't up for discussion Alex," Charles said, "I am coming with you."

Sean watched as Alex shook his head.

"Charles, I really wish that there were a more delicate way to say this-" he said.

"I have been in a wheelchair for several years Alex," Charles said, "I am well aware of how that effects my combat capabilities, thank you."

His words were sharp, angry. Sean swallowed.

"Charles, Alex is right," he said, "We can't-"

"You don't need to watch me," Charles said, "But I need to be there."

Charles glared at the ground. Sean could see the lines of tension in his mentor's face. Charles sighed once before looking up.

"Besides, it appears as though I might be your best way to contact the others," Charles said.

Alex shared a look with Sean. Charles was right, but Sean could see the continued reluctance on Alex's face.

"You know I have final say in this matter," Charles said.

The struggle was clear on Alex's face.

"Who'll watch David?" he asked.

"Annie has agreed to do so," Charles said, "She was already going to look after Terry, and it appears that she doesn't see David as much of a handful."

Sean watched Alex's face harden. He knew that Alex, for whatever reason, didn't like Annie to begin with. Sean thought that she was fine, if not a little too bubbly. He wouldn't have let her watch Terry if he didn't like her though.

It was a different story for Alex. Now it appeared that she was going to be the final word on the subject and Alex had been left without a leg to stand on.

"I'm going, whether you want me to or not," Charles said, "I need to be there Alex. You may understand one day."

Alex still looked puzzled, but he sighed.

"Fine," he said, "Fine."

He rubbed his chin.

"Let's get moving," he said.

Alex turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Sean straightened the coat of his uniform and headed out the door, followed by Charles.

"Hey, Alex?" Sean asked.

"It's going to be Havok in two minutes," Alex said.

"I know," Sean said, "I haven't forgotten everything about being an X-man. I just need to use the phone on the Blackbird."

"Why's that?" Alex asked, looking over his shoulder.

Sean sighed, feeling uncomfortable.

"When I was in Interpol, I made some friends," he said, "Friends who are going to be interested in what's happening in New York. Friends that might end up getting in the way. I just need to make sure that they stay out of it."

Alex raised his eyebrows.

"Friends like that Phil guy after we rescued Carly?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sean said.

Alex's face hardened.

"They can't know about us," he said.

"Exactly," Sean said, "And we need to be the ones there. We're talking about our own people. It needs to be us."

"Agreed," Alex said, "As for the phone, be my guest."

They climbed into the Blackbird. Sean could hear the murmurs of surprise when Charles followed them, but no one said anything out loud. He looked over the teens. They were clearly upset: two of their own were in danger, as well as Moira. He could see that Scott in particular was antsy.

Sean buckled up into the seat furthest from the cockpit. He put his headset on and tuned it into the phone frequencies. Alex started up the plane and Sean listened to the dial tone.

"Come on," he said, "Pick up, pick up…"

There was a click and he sighed in relief.

"Phil Coulson."

"Hey, it's Sean Cassidy," Sean said.

He heard Phil shuffle the phone from side to side.

"I'd really love to chat, but it appears that there's a rather interesting situation in New York-" he said.

"Yeah, I know," Sean said, "I was calling about that. I need you to stay away from it."

The Blackbird took off, the sound almost deafening. He was glad, because he knew that Phil was trying to process the information. He would be quiet while he did that. Afterwards it would be difficult to get him to stop talking. Sean couldn't risk not hearing anything that he said when he began.

"You want us to stay out of a hostage situation with what looks like very advanced tech?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Sean said.

There was another pause. Sean winced. He had dropped a real bombshell.

"You're intelligent," Phil said, "So I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you want us to stay out of it."

"Some of our people are in there," Sean said, "This is a time-sensitive mission and we need to get in there before anyone knows we're there. We can't have another team running around. You know things get messy when there's more than one team trying to resolve a hostage situation."

"So stand down," Phil said.

"We can't," Sean said.

"Who's we?" Phil asked, "I know you don't work for Interpol anymore."

Sean rubbed his temples. It looked like that lie wasn't going to work.

"I can't tell you," Sean said, "But you know that I wouldn't ask this if I didn't honestly believe that it was best, both for the people going in there and the hostages."

He heard Phil sigh.

"I know. I trust you Cassidy," Phil said, "But there's one problem."

"What's that?" Sean asked.

"It's not my call," Phil said.

Sean groaned.

"Oh God, not Fury?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And you know he doesn't like handing the reins over to anyone."

He groaned again. He knew that a few of the X-men were staring at him, but he didn't care. Not with Fury behind the wheel.

"I need you to convince him," Sean said.

"You know I can't do that without leverage," Phil said, "He'd want a favor from you in the very least. He knows about your…unique skill set."

"Fine," Sean said.

"Really?" Phil said.

He sounded shocked. Sean couldn't blame him. They both knew it was a bad idea to give Fury an unspecified favor.

"Yes," Sean said, "anything that isn't an assassination or will take me away from my daughter for more than two weeks. Anything other than that. Got it?"

"I…I've got it," Phil said, "But, even with this, there aren't any guarantees."

"I have faith in you," Sean said.

He looked around the Blackbird at the rest of the team.

"You just need to have faith in me," he said.

* * *

Moira took a deep breath. A large black safe had been wheeled in. She tried the handcuffs that secured her to a set of rails that they had brought in. There was no give. On the other side of the wall a few of the other people in the room had been shackled. She could see that they were scared. A chaperone tried to comfort one who was crying silently.

"It's fascinating, isn't it?"

Moira looked over at Sinister and glared at him. He laughed.

"Now, now, let's not be that way," he said, "Sacrifices must always be made in the name of science."

"Only in your type," she spat.

He sighed and crouched down in front of her.

"You know, humans like you always amazed me," he said, "You do know that you're actually a different species than mutants, right?"

He cocked his head and Moira tilted her head up. She could feel her heart beating so hard against her ribcage that she thought it would burst out of her chest.

"I remember when I first saw you in South America," he said, "A human married to a mutant giving intelligence readings. Those readings were, of course, on my plans and I was a little irritated, but still."

He grinned.

"You had come all the way down to disrupt my labs," he said, "It was a shame. I was creating a paradise down there."

"The inhabitants didn't think so," Moira said, "They called it the Savage Land."

"Can't please everyone," Sinister shrugged, "But what really fascinates me about you is that you actually managed to give birth to a mutant. Do you know how difficult that is, especially with second generation mutants?"

Moira felt her heart rate increase. He knew about David. How long had he been watching them?

"You might want to know how I know he's a mutant," Sinister said, "Well, the fact that the birth was so intense. It's not easy, carrying a member of another species. It must have been horribly painful."

He spread out his hands. Behind him she saw that the safe had been set upright.

"Now then," he said, "I have this theory, that the body has to change a bit to accommodate a new species DNA. Your very genetic make-up might have changed a little for your son."

He got up.

"I'll have to look into that later," he said, putting on rubber gloves, "Right now, I want you to watch something."

Sinister walked over to the black safe.

"What are you going to do?" Moira said.

"I'm going to conduct a little test," Sinister said, "Just a little one mind you. I'll go around and repeat it in the other rooms. I want a good sample size."

He opened the safe before pulling open a second door. Moira saw him pull out a vial full of black liquid. She could see that it was simmering inside the vial.

"You work at a school," he said, "I think that you'll appreciate this. It's such a…learning opportunity."

He glanced over at the students at the other side of the room and smiled. Chills ran up her spine.

"Whatever you're about to do," Moira said, "don't."

She knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears. She had seen too much of his handiwork in the Savage Land. Moira had to try though.

"That's no way to talk to a scientist reviewing his magnum opus," he said.

He turned the vial from side to side.

"This is designed on the basic code that all mutants have flowing in their veins, something I gleaned from young Summers's DNA," he said, "I wanted to do more, but I didn't have much. It really is a terrible thing, to have to work with incomplete data, but sometimes you have to work with what you have."

Sinister pulled a mask out of his pocket and put on goggles. Moira took a deep breath, the pounding in her heart beginning in her head.

"Don't," she said, "Please, they're only children."

She pulled on the handcuff as he approached the students. It didn't budge.

"You might think of this as a sort of inheritance for mutantkind, coming from their original DNA," he said, "Well, inheritance isn't exactly right. See, this comes from our mutant forefathers, but inheritance isn't a strong enough word."

Moira pulled on the handcuff again. It still wouldn't give. She gave a desperate look towards the students at the other end of the hall. The student who was crying drew in closer to the chaperone.

"Don't do this," she said.

Sinister tapped the top of the vial.

"I suppose it's more of a legacy," he said, "Yes, that's the perfect word for it."

The chaperone's eyes met Moira's. There was nothing either of them could do.

"And I think that that's what I'm going to call it," he said.

His eyes lit up as he pulled the stopper from the vial, releasing a black cloud into the air.

"The Legacy Virus."


	17. Chapter 17

September 3, 1974

"Alright, thanks."

Alex saw Sean switch his headset off out of the corner of his eye.

"Are your friends going to be joining us?" he asked.

"No," Sean said, "They're staying out of it."

His friend sounded troubled.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

"You're an awful liar," Alex said.

Sean sighed.

"I'm just going to end up owing some people," he said, "Big time."

"You need me to go down there and talk to them?" Alex said, "Because if you need me to, I will."

Sean shook his head and laughed.

"No, but that would be interesting to watch," he said, "It'll be fine."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

Alex nodded and glanced over at Charles. Charles was staring out the window, his gaze distant. He hadn't said anything since they had gotten onto the Blackbird. Alex wondered if he was reaching for the minds of Moira, Jean, and Warren. From the way his brow was furrowing he wasn't reaching any of them.

That couldn't be good.

"You know the basic layout of the conference center," Alex said, "It's not going to be difficult to get in there. We just need to enter to the roof under stealth mode. It's going to be a lot more difficult once we're actually in. It sounds like these people have a lot of firepower."

His team nodded. Scott looked down at the control panel, his eyes riveted on the displays. Alex cleared his throat.

"Cyclops?" he asked.

Scott looked up, swallowing.

"I hear you," he said.

"Good," Alex said.

He looked back at Charles.

"Any contact?" he asked.

Charles closed his eyes.

"Marvel Girl is psychically exhausted after her contact with me," he said, "And there's…I'm close to reaching the others but there's a kind of noise around the building."

"Noise?" Alex asked.

"I'm hearing other thoughts," Charles said, "It's hard to pick anyone out of the crowd. It seems that many of the telepaths are broadcasting their thoughts very loudly, and they're very scared. It's creating a blanket cover that is difficult to move through."

Alex shifted. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Professor," he asked, "just what are they scared of?"

Charles furrowed his brow again. His eyes snapped open.

"It's Sinister."

Alex almost turned the Blackbird into a full on dive. Scott whipped around, his mouth open.

"It can't be," Scott said, "I killed him!"

"We were also under the impression that Beast killed him," Alex said, "Sonuvabitch. What the hell's he up to?"

Charles looked at him.

"I have no idea," he said.

* * *

"So what are your resources?" Archangel asked.

Lorna looked at him. He was carrying Marvel Girl, who looked as though she were ready to faint. Archangel had told her that she had contacted the Professor. That meant that X-men were going to be pouring into the conference center soon. It meant that, for better or for worse, she was going to see Alex again.

She shifted her vest, rebuckling one of the compartments. She had done it hastily, and it didn't fit quite right. She needed something to distract her. When she was satisfied she shrugged.

"What are yours?" she asked, "Got any hidden pockets?"

She tilted her head and smiled, but Archangel intensified his glare. The smile slipped off her face.

"I'm wearing business casual!" he said.

Lorna sighed inwardly. He hadn't gotten the joke. She had to remember that she wasn't dealing with Alex. She was dealing with one of his students. She shouldn't expect any witty repartee from him. She felt silly expecting it in the first place. Not all X-men were like Alex, even if Warren seemed to be a good fighter.

"I've got a set of lock picks, my knives, two flares, a flashlight, small first aide kit, and some metal buttons," she said.

"Where?" Archangel asked, looking dazed.

"This coat and vest have a lot of pockets," Lorna said.

He paused.

"And two flares?" Archangel asked.

"You can never be too careful," Lorna said.

She pointed to herself.

"You know what I can do. Lance, or Avalanche to you, is pretty self-explanatory," she said, "You know Senyaka and Toad. And then there's Boom-Boom. She can make things explode by creating disks of kinetic energy."

Lorna frowned and turned to Tabby.

"That's what you figure, right?"

"Right," Tabby said, "But, to be frank, I just blow things up."

She grinned. Lorna turned to see that Lance was glaring at her.

"What is it now?" Lorna asked.

Lance opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"Don't tell me that you're pissed because I told him information that he needs to know?" Lorna said.

Lance didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought," she said.

She looked around her. She could see that Toad looked uncomfortable and Senyaka was looking at her through narrowed eyes.

"Let's get one thing straight right now," Lorna said, "We all want to get through this alive, don't we?"

There were a few glares.

"Well I want to live," Lorna said, "So let's figure out what's going on, beat the shit out of whoever's doing it, and then get the hell out."

Her team nodded. Archangel seemed to agree too, and she figured that Jean would if she had the ability to realize what was going on around her. Their reluctance was frustrating, especially since they didn't seem to have any other option. Lorna wished she'd had more time to train her team.

She remembered Alex, the way he had cut straight to the point. He'd asked her if she wanted to live and, with no more assurance than that, they had clawed their way out of Black Tom's factory. There had been no arguments with him, no muttering. He understood what needed to be done and had done it. She could admire him for that. Lorna knew that she admired him for many other things as well, and she wished that she didn't.

"We need to find Mrs. Xavier," Archangel said, "She was supposed to be meeting us for dinner."

"Professor's wife is here?" Lorna asked.

"She was our chaperone," Archangel said.

"You need to be baby-sat?" Lance asked.

"Shut it," Lorna said.

She straightened her coat.

"Alright, we'll find her next," she said.

Once more she could see the hostility in her team's eyes. She hated that they were like this, that they couldn't understand. It wasn't as though she hadn't tried to tell them how they did things. Lorna knew that they didn't want to listen, didn't want to think about anyone who wasn't inside of the Brotherhood.

She was getting the unpleasant feeling that quite a few members of the Brotherhood were like that.

"She's most likely going to be used as a bargaining chip if anyone finds out who she is," Lorna said, "We need to stop that before it turns into a situation."

"You don't know that," Tabby said.

Lorna exchanged a look with Archangel.

"Unfortunately, we do," Lorna said, "These people came into a peaceful conference full of students guns blazing. I don't think they're above taking hostages."

* * *

Moira stifled a sob. She could see the skin lesions breaking out on the students, multiplying and growing at an unbelievable rate. Others were coughing up a black liquid, their eyes wide. She could see a few gray veins standing out on their pale skin. It was happening so fast.

Sinister stood some distance from them, his mask and goggles firmly in place. He was taking notes on a clipboard, humming to himself from time to time. One of the students cried out and Moira felt a piercing pain in her head. She dropped to the floor, clutching her temples. It had happened more than once. Sinister chuckled.

"Don't feel too uncomfortable Mrs. Xavier," he said, "They can't control their powers right now. They'll come out in short bursts. I think we have a little group of telepaths here. Travelling in a pack. Safety in numbers, some foolish notion like that."

Sinister chuckled again.

"Don't worry though: it's much more painful for them than it is for you."

He tapped his clipboard.

"Then again," he said, "it won't be too painful for you. You're the wife of a telepath after all. You must be used to having your mind peered into."

He tucked his clipboard beneath his arm. Sinister walked towards the safe and pulled out a collection of vials similar to the first one. He had more?

"Well, I've seen the first stages here," he said, "It should have some time to incubate. I'll see about the other groups."

"Don't do this," Moira said.

He laughed and put down the vials. Sinister walked in front of her and crouched down so that his goggled eyes would be leveled with her.

"Why would I want to stop?" he asked, "This is my life's work."

"Why?" Moira asked, the word coming out choked, "In God's name, why?"

He smiled.

"Because sometimes we need to see the march of progress," he said, "If some things are trampled underfoot on that journey, well, that's only to be expected."

He motioned for one of the soldiers. Sinister got to his feet as the soldier walked over. He handed Sinister a syringe.

"Now, your husband's students should be arriving shortly," he said, "They'll want you, of course they will. I need a bit of a human shield, as you would say. I don't have too much time. I may have wasted too much already."

He shifted the syringe in his hands. Moira kept her eyes on it.

"Which means you can't stay here. So you'll be coming with me while I check on the rest of the test subjects," he said.

Sinister pulled out his clipboard again.

"However, I know about your background as a CIA agent," he said, "I do my research Mrs. Xavier. I am thorough."

He turned the syringe in his hands.

"I can't have you doing something clever you learned in training like, say, escaping," he said.

He turned the syringe in his hands again.

"It doesn't look like much, does it?" he asked.

Sinister leaned down and jabbed the syringe towards her shoulder. Moira moved to the side to dodge it, but the soldier that was with Sinister held her in place. He missed and tsked his tongue.

"You really shouldn't have done that," he said, "It would have hurt less if you hadn't moved. But let's go with plan B, shall we?"

He stabbed the syringe into her neck. Moira bit the inside of her lip to stifle a cry. He yanked it out again and threw the syringe over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's just a sedative Mrs. Xavier," he said, "It should leave you far too groggy to do anything more than move your eyes. I could have knocked you out completely. However, I wouldn't want you to miss out on all the fun, now would I?"

Sinister got to his feet.

"After all," he said, "You might know some of my test subjects. I would love to see your opinion on their progress."


	18. Chapter 18

September 3, 1974

Warren punched a soldier in the throat. He dropped and Warren kicked him in the head. When he was sure that he was down he picked him up and threw him in the nearest room. There were several other soldiers stacked there. He slammed the door shut and Magnetrix moved forwards. She waved her hand over the handle, welding the hinges and doorknob into the woodwork.

"Let's keep moving," she said.

They continued down the hall. Jean was walking on her own, but Warren knew that her powers were still shot. She was gaining her strength back enough to do some physical attacks, but they would need her power before the day was out. Warren wished that the X-men would hurry up.

They came to the end of the hall. Magnetrix put her hand up. Warren saw that the hallway ended in a balcony that overlooked the level below them. Only a glass wall stood between them and the room below. It would render them fully visible to anyone who casually looked at the ceiling.

"If we keep low, we might be able to see without them seeing us," Magnetrix said.

"Alright," Warren said, "I can keep low."

"I'm coming with you," Magnetrix said.

Warren raised his eyebrows and she shrugged.

"Two pairs of eyes are better than one," she said.

Warren nodded and got down to the ground. He knew that the woman next to him was the one that Alex had fought alongside against Black Tom. Alex had been tight-lipped about the subject, saying only that he thought that, of the Brotherhood, Magnetrix was somewhat trustworthy. He had to hope that his mentor wasn't mistaken. Her team outnumbered him and Jean, and he knew how ruthless the Brotherhood could be. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of their ire. All he wanted to do was figure out what was going on and get out.

It appeared that Magnetrix had similar goals. Together they crawled to the edge of the floor and peered down. He could see that a group of students had been gathered together in the corner of the room. Warren could see that something hazy and dark floated around them. A few were coughing and one or two were lying on the ground, only the occasional twitch showing that they were still alive.

"The hell?" Magnetrix hissed.

Warren continued to look. He saw a group of soldiers in the back, but he couldn't quite make out what they were guarding.

"Damn it!"

He glanced at Magnetrix. She pointed to a man in the middle of the room. Warren could see his pale skin reflected in the light.

"That's Sinister," he said.

"He has a name?" Magnetrix said.

"Old enemy of ours," Warren said, "He's some sort of scientist."

"Let me guess, he likes experimenting on mutants," Magnetrix said.

Her voice was venomous. Warren didn't blame her.

"Yeah, but Cyclops gave him a full blast of his powers in his face. I've seen metal melt underneath that," Warren said.

"Apparently Sinister's skull is stronger than metal," Magnetrix said.

Warren hesitated. He didn't know how much to tell her, but now that Sinister was in the mix, he had to be willing to take risks.

"Beast ripped his heart out once too," Warren said.

Magnetrix paused.

"Repeat that," she said.

"Beast ripped his heart out once too," Warren said, feeling silly.

Magnetrix shook her head.

"Alright, we've got an immortal," she said, "I suppose he's a mutant, although all of those things sound like a very strange mutation."

She continued to peer down at the crowd.

"And I believe he has Mrs. Xavier," she said.

Warren's eyes widened and his head whipped back down to the scene. Moira was sitting against the wall, her shoulders slumped and her hands limply beside her. Warren looked for any restraints, but couldn't find any. He frowned for a minute before looking closer. She looked almost like a rag doll.

"They've drugged her," he said, "It's not like her to be like that."

"I know. It's not what I expect of a former CIA agent," Magnetrix said.

She looked over her shoulder.

"We need to get down there," she said.

"I'm with you on that," Warren said.

He looked around the small balcony. He could see stairs leading downwards, but that couldn't be the only way. They would be too boxed in if they did that.

"Hey."

Warren looked over his shoulder. Jean was standing up and pointing to the ceiling. The glass wall didn't go up all the way, and there were several beams that lights hung off of. Warren turned to Magnetrix.

"How good is your upper body strength?" Warren asked.

Magnetrix frowned.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Push ups, pull ups, that kind of thing," he asked.

"I do one hundred before breakfast every morning," she said, "Why?"

Warren grinned.

"And the rest of your team?"

"The same," she said, "Unless they piss me off. Then they do more. Again, why?"

"Well, let's just say that I have a mutation that gets kind of useful in these situations," he said, flexing his wings.

* * *

"Can you make contact?" Alex asked, setting down the Blackbird.

"Almost," Charles said.

He could feel frustration creeping in. He hadn't heard anything else from Jean. Logically he knew that she couldn't contact him again. Her call for back-up had probably exhausted her powers and would leave her burned out for quite some time. He had hoped that he would be able to find Warren or Jean's minds once they got close though. Charles had prayed that he would be able to find Moira's.

Instead he could hear the anguished, painful thoughts of young telepaths. No matter what their skill level, the sheer level of fear and confusion was creating a cloud that prevented him from finding familiar minds. Charles had tried talking to them, but whatever was happening to them prevented them from talking back. It sounded like one long, drawn out, psychic wail of anguish.

It was worrying. It was like they had no control over their powers at all. All he knew was that Sinister was there, that he had done something to them. Charles had seen enough of his handiwork to know that that was bad. They had to get in there. He knew that he was just on the cusp of breaking through though, if only he tried harder.

He pressed through, reaching, grasping. He had to find her, to know that she was alright. Charles knew that he should be looking for his students as well, but as time passed all he wanted to do was know if Moira was safe. The other two had found safety. He had no idea if she was even still alive.

Charles forced the thought from his mind. She was alive. She was alive, and she was going to come back home. They would work things out, give their marriage and their love one more chance. He would make up his cold apathy to her, show her that he could change, that he was worth it after all.

He pushed further. Blood trickled down his nose, and he thought that he heard Alex call out to him. After another push he felt almost as though he could breathe again. Charles had gotten past the fear of the young telepaths. He grasped out, clasping onto the first familiar mind that he found.

_Professor?_

Charles took a deep breath. Warren. He had hoped for Moira, but perhaps Warren had something he could tell them. At least his students seemed to be safe.

_We're here, _Charles thought, _I'm sorry that I couldn't contact you sooner. Some telepaths have lost control of their powers._

_ We've got bigger problems. Sinister is here, _Warren thought.

_I'm aware,_ Charles thought, _Where are you?_

_In the main hall,_ Warren thought, _We've got Magnetrix and a few other members of the Brotherhood with us. Apparently they were observing the conference. _

Charles sighed.

_As long as they're helping, then we'll work with them. Are you in combat?_

_ No, but we're about to engage a group of soldiers and Sinister on the first level. If you could give us back-up that would be great. And…Professor?_

_ Yes?_

_ Mrs. Xavier's down there,_ Warren thought, _I think she's been drugged or something. She doesn't look too good._

Charles gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. The thought of Moira in Sinister's hands sent him reeling. He fought to keep control of his mental conversation.

_Keep an eye on her, make sure that everything's alright. I'll tell you when we're there, _he thought.

_ Sure thing. _

Charles opened his eyes. Alex was standing in front of him, looking worried.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Charles said, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to stem the flow of blood from his nose, "And so are Warren and Jean. Moira…"

He took a deep breath.

"Sinister has her."

There was a collection of murmurs. Alex put his hand on Charles's shoulder.

"Then let's go get her back," he said.

Charles looked up and nodded.

* * *

"They're here," Warren said.

Lorna looked down from her perch in the roof's rafters. Warren had just finished flying Jean over. The girl was looking much stronger, ready for a fight.

"The Professor just told me that they're above us," he said, "Havok is suggesting that we go in as a first wave. They'll come in two minutes after we move in."

"Sounds right," Lorna said.

Senyaka glared at her, but Lorna shook her head.

"On my mark," she said.

She watched as the soldiers moved beneath them.

"Three…two…"

She targeted a group of soldiers near the door.

"…one."

They began crawling down the sides of the ceiling. Warren immediately flew down, knocking over two soldiers before taking to the air again. Lorna dropped onto a group of soldiers and took out her knives, slicing and moving as fast as she could. She could see that Jean and Tabby were working on a group of soldiers further down, and she saw that Toad, Lance, and Senyaka weren't staying idle either.

Lorna had to smile. They were a bickering mess outside of combat, although she knew she could shut them up, but in combat situations they moved as a team. They had paired off, Senyaka with Toad and Lance with Tabby, just like she'd taught them. At least there was that.

On the far side of the room she saw Xavier's wife, unmoved by all of the chaos. She had to be drugged. Lorna moved towards her as the roof shattered. She looked up and saw the X-men dropping in one after the other. At first they were a blur, but then she could make out individual members. Her eyes focused on Alex, sending down beams of radiation with Cyclops before he even touched the ground.

She turned, brushing aside her relief at seeing him, and saw that Sinister was striding towards Xavier's wife, his hands calmly in his pockets. Lorna snarled and began slicing her way towards him. When she was within tossing range she threw one of her knives at him. Without even turning his head he caught it, flicking it back in her direction.

Lorna summoned it to her hand and Sinister turned, his smile unsettling.

"The Brotherhood and the X-men yet again," he said, "I do believe I'm shaking."

"You should be," Lorna said.

"Not really," he said, "I've been planning this for quite some time. And I don't like people getting in the way of my plans."

From the corner of her eye Lorna saw that Alex was hurrying towards her, his brother behind him. Sinister noticed too.

"Not even a Summers."

Lorna saw Sinister reach inside his pocket for something. The floor began to rumble, the ground shifting beneath their feet. Lorna could interlocking panels give way, no metal anywhere in sight. She lunged for Sinister just as the floor beneath her completely gave way, sending her spiraling downwards.

As the light began to dwindle Lorna saw that she wasn't alone in her descent. Alex sent one last bolt of light towards Sinister before the panels closed up again and Lorna hit the ground.


	19. Chapter 19

September 3, 1974

Charles could hear the sounds of battle far below him. He reached out with his mind, flicking through the X-men's thoughts. It was the only role that he could have in battle: to stay in the Blackbird and try to monitor the action through his telepathy. He could give advice and streamline communication, but he could never fight. There had been few times that he regretted his non-combative role as bitterly as he did then.

From what he had seen the room below him was chaos. He saw the soldiers, saw the young mutants on the floor, twitching as black bubbled from their lips. Charles tried to touch their thoughts, to calm them and see what had happened, but it was a jumbled mess of pain and something he couldn't define. It sent him reeling and he continued on his quest.

He found Moira's mind far from the confusion of the battle. At first he was relieved, hoping that she'd found a safe place to hide. Then he'd brushed her mind with his and felt only a sense of confusion. He'd almost cried out, fearful that, whatever Sinister had done to the young mutants, he'd done to his wife as well.

However, there was a slight difference. Her confusion wasn't complete: her mind was only moving at a more sluggish rate. Despite himself he nearly laughed with joy. He hadn't harmed her: she was merely drugged. Charles knew that that wasn't good, but it was better than her going through the same pain as the young mutants.

He strengthened his reach into her mind. He saw jumbled images, saw Sinister talking to her in his smooth, mechanical way, although the words were blurred due to the drug. He tried to reach her thoughts, but the drug was doing much to cloud them. Charles smoothed them out though, pushing the drug's influence away from her thoughts. He'd helped break through a million different clouds before: it was nothing to him.

_Charles?_

Charles sighed in relief. The way she welcomed him into her mind after everything only made him strengthen his resolve to fix things.

_Yes Moira, I'm here_, he thought, touching her mind as gently as he could.

He could almost hear her swallow.

_Jean…Warren…_

_They're fine_, he thought, _In the middle of a fight, but they're X-men. Moira, are you alright?_

Charles had seen enough of her memories to know that she was physically unharmed. However, her thoughts were scarred. Charles tried to make his touches on her mind soft, tried to put as much care as he could into it. Now wasn't the time to talk, but she had to know that he cared.

_Charles, he's doing something, some sort of virus_, Moira thought, _It's causing the mutants' powers to flare up without their knowledge or control. _

Charles thinned his lips. It certainly made sense.

_Can you show me what he did, what he's doing now?_ he thought.

_I'm drugged, but I can try_, Moira said.

He smiled at her determination.

_I'll be with you every step of the way,_ he thought, _Just show me, and I'll see if I can help._

_You're already here_, she thought, _That helps._

* * *

Scott ran forwards, jumping over soldiers and blasting any that got in his way. He'd been relieved to see that Jean was alright when he came in. She'd ripped the side of her dress up the side so she could move easier, and she'd disposed of her heels, but she was missing most of her equipment that came with the uniform, as well as the protection it provided. Once this was over he was sure that they would be able to get it back to her.

For now Ororo was with her, and he knew she would be fine. Alex had already talked to him about respecting Jean's status as an X-man, a woman who didn't need anyone to protect her. He had the feeling that she'd prompted the talk with Alex, used him as a medium for a message she didn't know how to express. So instead of pulling her into the Blackbird and out of danger Scott settled for giving her a relieved smile and having it returned.

The ropes gave him a slight burn as he slid down them, his gloves not quite protecting him. However, he managed to keep up with his brother. Alex had led the charge, like he always had. Both he and Magnetrix had gone for Sinister. Scott had followed, determined to find out how Sinister had survived.

He was close enough to see his brother go down along with Magnetrix, barely managing to stop before he plunged into the abyss as well. He reached down, unsure of what he wanted to do, but the floor closed up too fast.

He whipped his head up. Sinister put a small remote control back into his pocket.

"At least he's safely out of the way," Sinister said.

"What did you do?" Scott screamed.

Sinister turned to look at him and Scott put his hand to his goggles. Sinister laughed, putting his hands in his lab coat.

"Oh Scott," he said, "Don't you know that doesn't work? Didn't you learn anything?"

All around him Scott could hear the sounds of the fight. He squared his feet, his hand still on his goggles.

"I can certainly put you to some discomfort," he growled.

Sinister laughed.

"You can try," he said, "But the truth of the matter is you can't kill me. You've already given it your best shot. It wasn't bad, as murder attempts go."

He shrugged.

"As for your brother, he's fine," Sinister said.

"Why don't I believe you?" Scott said.

"Well, I'm telling the truth. I couldn't risk his contamination," he said, "One of you has to survive, and I've already set you aside for dissection."

Scott clenched his free hand into a fist. He angled his head down to the floor and turned the dial on his goggles. Light shot out of his visor, but it didn't do more than dent the floor. Scott paused. He'd burnt through metal before. He heard Sinister laugh as he shook his head. Scott looked up again, gritting his teeth.

"What did you do?" he said.

"Always with the same question," Sinister said, "You really thought that I would leave something like this to chance? It's far too important. I only had a week to prepare, but I knew that the X-men would be part of the equation sooner or later. The Brotherhood was a surprise, but what is life without some unknown variables?"

He shrugged.

"Nonetheless, I planned ahead, sculpted this place. Just a few tweaks here and there," he said, "It'll be fun watching you go through it."

"Right now it's just you and me," Scott said, "You're not going anywhere."

Sinister shook his head.

"You heroes never cease to surprise me, such predictable dialogue," he said, "Still, you're strong. It's why I have a human shield and a back-up plan."

He gestured behind him. For the first time Scott realized that Moira was slumped up against the wall, her eyes barely focused. It was obvious that she had been drugged, although there seemed to be a strange level of awareness there. Scott immediately felt guilty for not noticing her. He'd been far too focused on his brother to pay attention to much else.

Someone stepped up next to him. Scott turned his head slightly and saw a man a few years older than him, his brown hair coming down slightly below his chin.

"Where the hell is Magnetrix?" he snapped.

So he was Brotherhood member. A girl with blonde hair ran up, standing by the man. He supposed she was Brotherhood too. He could feel Warren's wings beating above him. He might not be able to kill Sinister, but together they could take him.

"Below," Sinister shrugged.

"Look, there's four people here who are willing to beat the shit out of you," the man said, "So you should start being a little more descriptive."

Sinister laughed again.

"Yes, you three and the Cheyarafim. What a terrible quartet," he said.

He shook his head.

"You must work on that delivery, all of you," he said, "You're rather unsurprising. The Cheyarafim is curious perhaps, but not frightening."

Scott furrowed his brow. He could tell that he wasn't the only one confused.

"The what now?" the blonde girl asked.

"Latin. Not a language you would know," Sinister said.

He pulled out the remote again.

"I selected this center for a reason," he said, "And, although I didn't have much time to prepare, I certainly had enough time to make arrangements, as I was just telling young Summers here. Have fun."

He flipped a switch. Scott expected the floor to do something, but instead a wall began to shift from the ceiling. The man rolled underneath it, but the blonde girl stared at it until it came down, trapping her away from her back-up. Scott didn't pay the wall much mind: he lunged straight for Sinister. He could hear Warren's wings flapping above him.

At least he had back up, although he knew that the rest of the X-men were too distracted to notice. They might have seen Alex drop, but the battle had heated up after that. They wouldn't have noticed the wall come down. Even if they saw it, they wouldn't know what it was for.

Sinister dodged and pulled a vial from the inside of his coat. He pulled off the stopper, releasing white gas into the air. Scott tried to hold his breath, but he knew that he didn't have much time. The gas made the room misty and Scott looked around for Sinister, his lungs burning.

He coughed and sucked in a breath, knowing that it was a bad idea but unable to help it. He was surprised to find that he didn't feel faint. Scott took another breath, but there didn't seem to be any adverse effects. He straightened, puzzled. Shrugging it off he began to look around, not moving from his spot.

"Archangel?" he called.

"I'm here," Warren said.

Although he couldn't see Warren, he knew that he was close by. He hadn't taken to the air, he would have stirred the smoke.

"The gas is fine," he said.

"I would never have guessed," Warren said, "Which means that Sinister's probably run off with Mrs. Xavier-"

Warren stopped abruptly. Scott turned, hearing a body fall to the ground.

"Archangel?" he called again.

From somewhere to his right he heard the blonde girl cry out. It was a brief noise, and it wasn't followed up by another. Scott touched his goggles again, feeling his heart rate increase. He waited, the muffled sounds of the battle close by through the wall. The mist was beginning to die down, but he wasn't going to take that for granted. Alex had always told him that doing so was the equivalent of handing himself over to his enemy.

Scott saw movement to his left. He dialed his power up a notch and sent out a blast from his goggles. The smoke cleared slightly, but nothing was there. Scott turned up his power another notch. He turned in all directions, bringing his power in a full circle. He kept the level of his eye beams up high: Moira had been close to the floor. He didn't want to hurt her. He saw the metal sheet of the wall bend beneath his goggles, but it still didn't break. Scott didn't have time to think about what that meant.

He tried to get something of the layout of the room from the way that it was illuminated by his eye beams. Scott still couldn't see much. He turned, still trying to find the shape that he had seen move. There wasn't any movement anywhere, and he took a cautious step backwards. As he did he felt something sharp stab into his ankle. A sharp pain travelled up his leg, sending him to the ground.

Scott's vision blurred and he saw Sinister get up, brushing himself off.

"That was certainly less fun than I thought," he said.

He looked down at Scott and smiled.

"But I do get an unexpected bonus," he said.

Scott snarled and tried to get up, but his arms failed him. Soldiers came into the room as banging started up on the metal wall from the outside.

* * *

Moira took a deep breath as soldiers came in and dragged away Warren, Scott, and the blonde girl. Sinister looked back at the metal wall that separated them from the rest of the X-men. She could see the metal begin to bend under the assault of the combined forces of the X-men and the Brotherhood. Charles showed her the scene from the other side.

"We need to move," Sinister said.

_It's working_, Charles thought.

She tried to smile, but the drugs kept her lips numbed. Sinister turned to face her, his eyes blank. He walked towards her and grabbed her chin, jerking her face upwards.

"Now, how would they know anyone's in here? I doubt that Lance, as I believe his name is, could rally the X-men. The boy's a twit," Sinister said, "So, engaging with a little mental bond with your husband are you?"

_Moira-_

"No matter," Sinister said.

He slammed her head into the wall. Moira felt pain shoot through her, her vision going.

"Can't read your thoughts if there isn't anything to read," Sinister said as Moira beganto lose consciousness.

_ Moira!_


	20. Chapter 20

September 3, 1974

Lorna woke up and pushed herself up on her elbows. The back of her head felt like it was splitting open. Lorna reached back and touched it. She could feel a little blood there, but the gash wasn't deep, only surface level. At least there was that.

Her back ached, but she pushed herself into a seated position. She groaned and began digging in her coat for her flashlight. Lorna switched it on and looked around. She'd fallen several feet below the floor of the conference center. The cavern stretched out in several directions, but the walls were smooth and concrete. No chance of climbing up them, but they didn't appear to be booby trapped.

She looked around a little further. There weren't any weapons or forcefields. The cavern was quite simplistic. It appeared that the foundations had been dug into to make room for the pit. There were a few cables running alongside the ceiling, ferrying power to and from an unknown source. Lorna tried to find metal in them, but there wasn't any. She could faintly feel metal above her, but the lower side of the panels had been coated in plastic. She made a face, but Sinister certainly had a good plan B.

She pointed the flashlight further down. It looked like the cavern continued on. She would have to figure out where it led, but that could wait. She knew that she hadn't fallen down alone and, now that she'd done the primary check to make sure she wasn't about to die in the next few seconds, she could afford to do the secondary one.

"Scholastic?" she called.

There was no answer. She felt a brief flurry of panic, but she reminded herself that Alex was virtually unkillable. She had seen that herself after the motorcycle accident, and she'd certainly heard stories. She began picking her way across the cavern, moving her flashlight in wide sweeps.

"Scholastic?" she called.

She heard a groan. Lorna moved over to Alex and shook her head.

"Scholastic, we have got to stop running into each other like this," she said.

He didn't answer. Lorna knelt beside him and saw a deep gash in his shoulder. She frowned, looking around. What had he injured himself on? She looked up and saw that the area around the ceiling was jagged. Knowing Alex's luck he'd scraped it on the way down.

Lorna sighed. She tried to get a better look at the injury, but his jacket was in the way. She pulled him up and took the jacket off.

"Might want to lose some weight," Lorna said.

He groaned again, still out. She wondered why she was so much better at coming to than he was. It wasn't the first time that this had happened after all. Lorna supposed that she had the better constitution. She wished he would wake up so they could argue about it.

She tried to examine the wound once the jacket was off, frustrated that the strange weave that the X-men wore was in the way. Lorna took a deep breath before unzipping the top of the jumpsuit and looking at his shoulder.

"Nothing personal," she said.

The gash was deep, and he was losing blood from it. Lorna sighed and popped her flare, lighting the room. She put her flashlight down and started fishing around in her pocket for her medical equipment. It wasn't much, just a needle, some thread, and a small bottle of disinfectant. Bandages could always be torn from something, but luckily for her coat bandages weren't what was needed. She poured some of the disinfectant over the wound and heard Alex hiss. He didn't wake up though.

"Jeez, do I need to turn on a siren?" she asked.

Lorna felt a little insane, talking to Alex although he was unconcious. However, it had been a long time since she had last seen him. Lorna knew that it would have been better if she hadn't run into him during the latest debacle, but it was too late to worry about things like that.

She began stitching, making the stitches as even as she could. Angel had been the one to show her how to patch up a wound. Medical work wasn't Azazel or her father's speciality. Angel had told her that it had made her feel useful in the early days of the Brotherhood. She knew that her powers were only useful in certain types of combat.

As Lorna continued stitching she saw that the skin on Alex's shoulder wasn't even. She needed more light if she wanted to keep the stitches even. Frustrated she turned on her flashlight and held it in her mouth.

The skin was rough and clumpy, as if from a severe burn. For a moment she froze, remembering another fire. Then Lorna frowned, nudging the uniform shirt a little further down even as she continued to stitch. The clumpy healing continued all the way down his back.

She wanted to say something, but the flashlight in her mouth made it difficult to comment. She kept her counsel to herself, although she wondered if the burn continued onto his chest. Lorna knew that Alex was considered the battering ram of the X-men, the one who always charged in headfirst. She wondered if the burn had been a result of that stupid, stubborn bravery.

The burns didn't continue to his chest. However, she did see scars that she assumed were a result of him charging in headfirst as though he had something to prove. Lorna could see bullet wounds, as well as small scars where she knew that stitches had once been put in. He'd have another scar on his shoulder to match now.

However, Lorna couldn't help but notice other scars. They were thin and white. Lorna supposed that they came from some sort of knife, but they weren't big enough to suggest a stab wound. Lorna finished with Alex's shoulder and took the flashlight out of her mouth. She used it to examine the scars, curious.

She could see that they travelled along nerve paths. Lorna remembered when Azazel had taught her about them, where to punch or kick or stab and cause the most damage. Once again, the scars weren't big enough to suggest that someone had been trying to cut the nerves. Instead, they were shallow, almost like someone was nicking them. They had only been surface wounds, not deep enough to cause permanent damage, but deep enough to hurt like hell.

Cocking her head Lorna leaned in and traced one of the scars that ran across his collarbone. His hand shot out, grabbing Lorna's wrist. She dropped the flashlight under the pressure, feeling her bones scrap up against his fingers. As the pain flared she kicked him instinctively, scrambling away and getting to her feet.

"What the hell was that for Scholastic?" she asked.

She turned and saw that Alex had already zipped up his uniform, despite the fact that he was winding from her kick. He began to shrug his jacket back on. She shook her wrist. It wasn't sprained. Good.

"I don't like people touching me," he said.

"Neither do I, but I don't try to break their wrists for it," Lorna said.

"Stop exaggerating," he snapped.

"Fine tone to take to the woman who just stitched up your shoulder," she said.

Alex paused and shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, "I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't," she said.

Alex shrugged and got to his feet. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Any chance you learned to fly in the past few months?" he asked.

Lorna sighed. While she had most of her father's powers, the ability to manipulate magnetic fields to allow her to float still eluded her.

"No," she said.

"Then it looks like we're walking," he said.

He scooped up the flare and headed towards the other end of the cavern. Lorna picked up her flashlight and trudged after him. He stopped before going into the side tunnel, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, "For stitching me up."

"No problem," Lorna said, feeling pleasure flare up inside her.

He tilted his head and they began walking.

"Looks like you make a habit of getting banged up," Lorna said.

"Not so much anymore," Alex said, "You should have seen me in my first few years."

"I've heard stories," Lorna said.

She hesitated, unsure about continuing.

"I uh, saw the burns on your back," she said.

Alex stiffened.

"Accident," he said, his voice short.

Lorna winced. She wished she could stop, but her words were running ahead of her head.

"And those smaller scars? The ones all across your chest?" she asked.

"Like you said, I get banged up," he said.

His voice was getting sharp. Lorna shoved her hands in her pockets.

"Okay," she said, "Okay."

She was still curious, but she knew that she wasn't going to get any answers from him. Not with the way that his body was tensing. She got the feeling that she hadn't been supposed to see any of his scars, but she hadn't been able to help it. He had a right not to tell her.

The fact that she'd wanted him to tell her, that she'd wanted to know more about him, was disturbing though.

"Plane crash."

She blinked.

"Come again?" she asked.

"I got the burns from a plane crash," he said, his words reluctant, "It's not like it's a secret. My father was a pilot, used to take us flying on the weekends sometimes. He got an old plane, and something was wrong with the engine. Started to burn. There were only two parachutes, and he couldn't land."

Lorna took a deep breath and looked down.

"So me and my brother got them," Alex said, "When the plane went up my chute caught on fire. Got me to the ground, but burned up my back pretty bad. That's all."

She stared at his back, remembering the patchy, warped skin that was there. The burn would have had to have been worse than 'pretty bad' for it to have been in that condition after several years.

Lorna could see that Alex's shoulders were still tense. She realized that he was waiting for her to say something.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Like I said, it's not like it's a secret or anything," he said.

Swallowing she dug her hands deeper into her pockets.

"I know what it's like to lose someone because they decided that you were more precious than they were," she said.

Alex looked at her over his shoulder, his expression curious. Lorna wished that she could take her words back, but once again it was too late. Besides, he had shared the death of his parents with her. He deserved something.

"What," Lorna said, trying to keep her voice light, "don't tell me that you've never wondered about where I came from?"

"We have," Alex said.

He continued walking, still glancing back towards her every now and then.

"I have the feeling you're not going to tell me much though," he said.

"No," Lorna said.

She cleared her throat.

"And those other scars?" she asked.

Alex tensed up again, his grip on the flare making it dent slightly. She could tell that his breathing was becoming labored, almost as though he were trying to make a decision.

"You're not the only one who can keep secrets Trixie," he said.

"Thought you might say that," Lorna said.

Alex managed a laugh.

"Yeah well, you know how it is," he said.

"I do," Lorna said.

She smiled.

"You and your solid X-man ways," she said, "They teach you how to stand to attention when you sleep yet?"

"Have they taught you how to stay silent on patrol?" he asked.

"Nope," Lorna said.

Alex glanced back at her.

"You know," he said, "I'm probably going to regret saying this in about ten seconds, but I kind of missed you."

Despite herself, Lorna knew that her smile widened.

"Me too," she said.


	21. Chapter 21

September 3, 1974

Sinister looked at Moira Xavier. She wasn't anything special. He knew that. She was just a human, someone whose genes had resigned her to mediocrity. Her status as a former CIA agent was hardly interesting. Her hair was the only mutation she had: auburn. Moira wasn't someone that he would usually pay attention to.

However, she had birthed a mutant child. More than that, she had birthed a healthy mutant child whose father had a very slim chance of being able to father a child. Sinister had often wondered why certain women had been able to give birth to mutants with no adverse side-effects beyond a difficult birth while others died in the process.

He had his own theories about that. After all, at one point or another females from other species in history had bred to the point where homo sapiens were the dominant species. Sinister cocked his head as he slipped the last restraint into place. They would hold. She was only human. He was more concerned about the new mutants he had acquired in the room next door.

He took a moment to look at his hostage. There were several questions about her. Sinister wondered if she had any mental scarring from the way her husband had been in and out of her mind. He'd always wondered about that: her brain shouldn't be equipped to handle such things without some sort of defense. If things worked out, he might be able to find out.

Sinister turned away from her and walked into the next room. He shouldn't be greedy though. He'd already gotten quite a few treats. Scott, the Cheyarafim, and the Brotherhood girl were beginning to wake up. He waited impatiently as Scott's eyes began to open. To pass the time he walked over to the Cheyarafim, examining the feathers on his wings. He'd had the wings spread out so he could get a better look at them.

"Get the hell away from him," Scott growled.

"Do be quiet," Sinister said, "I'm just taking a quick look."

He glanced back at Scott.

"But now that you're awake, I want to tell you a few things," he said, "Just so you understand the power of your DNA."

"I'm not interested!" Scott snapped.

"You should be," Sinister said.

He flipped a switch on his control panel. He hummed as the different monitors came on, showing mutants all over the center in various stages of the virus. He smiled.

"Your DNA did contain what I think of as the 'Prime Strain' of mutant DNA," he said, "I got it when you bled all over me in that factory. It's the one thing that every mutant on this planet has in common. When you mutate this strand, such as basically causing it to cannibalize itself, you get a very, very potent virus. Instead of attacking the body's systems, it attacks the body at its basest level."

He tapped the screen closest to him. Mutants coughed up black and sweat poured from their foreheads. Scott's eyes widened.

"Welcome to your legacy," he said.

Scott glared at him, his breath harsh.

"I thought you wanted the mutant species to continue. That's what Havok told me your goal was, for it to dominate," he said.

"Yes, of course it is," Sinister said, surprised.

"Then why are you killing them?" Scott screamed.

Sinister laughed and shook his head.

"Well, that's for me to know and you to try to find out," he said, "Now, I'd like to conduct a few preliminary procedures. Just to pass the time."

* * *

"They're not there anymore," Sean said.

The man who'd introduced himself as Avalanche, or Lance, growled at him and kicked the metal door.

"How would you know?" he snapped.

"The Professor told me," he said.

Sean tapped the side of his head. He watched warily as Toad and Senyaka walked over, their eyes trained on him. He could feel the rest of his team staring as well. He knew that the X-men were looking to him for instruction now that Alex and Scott were gone. He remembered when they had been hunting Black Tom, and for a moment he remembered the feeling of the weight of leadership on his shoulders.

However, this time things were different. A madman wasn't asking for Scott's life in exchange for Terry's. Besides, the soft presence in his mind told him that, this time, he wasn't alone. He let his fists uncurl and looked at the three Brotherhood members with what he hoped was a frank expression.

"Havok went down with Magnetrix, and Cyclops and Archangel were captured along with…what was her name?" he asked.

"Boom-Boom," Toad said.

Sean wanted to laugh, but he knew that it would be inappropriate.

"Right," he said, "Sinister's holding people on both sides of the board. We need to figure this out."

"We don't need to do anything," Lance snapped, "We were doing fine before you showed up."

"You weren't," Jean said.

Lance snarled at her, but Jean gave him a level gaze. Sean was glad to see that she had gotten better at keeping calm.

"Magnetrix was the one who suggested that we pair up in the first place," she said, "She wanted to live. Obviously she thought she had a better chance if we all worked together."

Toad put an arm on Lance's shoulder.

"Red-head's right man," he said, "Magnetrix's smart. She wouldn't a' done this if she didn't think it was the right idea."

Lance shook off Toad's hand.

"Fine," he said.

"Glad we're agreed," Sean said, "First things first, we need to figure out what's going on with the students-"

_I already know. _

Sean put up a hand and tapped his head. Jean understood immediately and put a finger to her lips, trying to signal the Brotherhood to be quiet. They stared, but Sean tuned them out.

_What's going on?_ Sean thought.

_ Sinister's infected them with some sort of virus. It spreads very quickly, and it appears that he can release it in a gaseous state._

Charles paused.

_Moira showed me. _

Sean shifted his feet uncomfortably. There was undeniable pain in Charles's thoughts, one that Sean was all too familiar with.

_We'll get her back. _

_ I know,_ Charles thought.

The thought was sharp, almost angry. Sean decided to let it drop.

"Apparently it's some sort of virus," he said, "Mrs. Xavier managed to show the Professor it before she dropped out. It looks like Sinister can release it into the air, so we're going to have to try to get some sort of protection before we proceed."

"I'm on it," Clarice said.

She pulled one of her crystals out from her pouch and disappeared. A moment later she returned with several masks. They were like gas masks in their design, only they were more lightweight. Hank had insisted that they carry them on the Blackbird for emergencies if a biological weapon were used. At the time Sean had thought that he was being a worrywart. Now he blessed him.

Clarice disappeared. She came back with a bag of medical supplies, and then disappeared once more. Sean frowned, unsure of what she was doing. He could understand the medical supplies, and he'd asked for the masks. However, when she returned a moment later he understood, and his heart sank. She'd brought Charles.

He'd already snapped his mask in place, his expression determined. Sean shot a look at Clarice who frowned and tapped her head. Charles had asked her to. Sean wasn't surprised, and he shouldn't have been surprised that Clarice had acquiesced. In the grand hierarchy of the X-men, Charles outranked him.

He always would. Sean had just never seen him use his position to place himself in battle before. Charles knew his limitations better than anyone.

"Are you serious?"

Sean looked and saw that Lance was looking at Charles with disbelief. Immediately Toad clapped his hand on Lance's shoulder again.

"Not a good idea man," he said.

"But-" Lance began.

"Not a good idea!" Toad hissed.

Toad's tone made Sean frown. He took a closer look at Toad's face. He was afraid. Sean wondered where that fear came from. Charles hadn't been in active combat since Cuba. Then again, he supposed that he had a reputation. He was the leader of the X-men, and he realized that Magneto must have told his recruits just how powerful a telepath he was. He was the guiding force behind all of the X-men's missions, the ones who had molded them into soldiers, the man who guided an elite militia with advanced technology.

No wonder Toad was afraid.

"I…I think I should stay."

Sean turned and saw Jean fidget as she put on her mask.

"Come again?" he asked.

"Someone…someone needs to tend to them," Jean said, her voice soft as she gestured to the students, "I'm the only one with any medical experience."

Sean looked at the young mutants who were in the room. He saw that black was still trickling from their lips. A few were hugging their knees to their chests, rocking back and forth slowly. Some didn't even seem to have the energy to do that, their blank eyes staring upwards, their breathing the only sign that they were still alive.

"I know how this is going to sound," Sean said, "but please don't take offence: I think that this is a little beyond you."

"I know it is," Jean said, "But…we need to do something."

"Marvel Girl is right," Charles said.

He looked at Jean.

"Are you sure that you'll be alright?" he asked, "I doubt we could leave anyone with you."

"I'm sure," she said.

Sean strained his ears. Her voice was faint. She was determined, but he heard the determination fade as she whispered:

"Just make sure that Cyclops is okay."

Charles nodded.

"If anything happens," he said, tapping the side of his head, "Contact me."

Jean nodded before grabbing the medical bag and a mask. She put the mask on and headed over to the nearest group of mutants. Sean grabbed one of the masks and tossed it to Lance. He followed it up with masks for Senyaka and Toad. He secured his own mask, feeling the walls press in on his face. It made him shudder to feel it closing in on his face, but he'd worn masks before while going into precarious situations in Interpol.

He looked at the rest of the group. With Jean staying behind he still had Ororo and Clarice. Charles was with him too, and he knew that counted for something. He felt that they weren't outnumbering the Brotherhood the way he would prefer. Sean knew that uneasy truces could be worked out with ease if Magneto were there, and from what Alex had said he had high hopes of Magnetrix. He figured that she and Alex had already figured something out, wherever they were.

Sean had no idea about the three that stood in front of him. Toad seemed amenable enough, Lance was hostile, and Senyaka was silent as usual. However, Senyaka had been the one who had once tried to murder Scott while he was too injured to fight back. Sean didn't have high hopes of him being reasonable.

However, he had to work with what he had. He watched as Charles put his hand to his temples, his eyes closing momentarily.

"I can feel Cyclops's thoughts from three floors down that way," he said, pointing to the right.

"Is he thinking anything useful?" Sean asked.

"Sinister is being too cryptic, but it doesn't look good for him and Archangel and Boom-Boom. He says that Sinister's rigged this place, has some sort of plan," Charles said, "He knows that we're coming for him, I made sure of that, but he also wishes that we'd hurry up."

"I have no problem with that," Sean said, "How about Havok?"

"Not in any danger," Charles said, "They were dropped below the center. He and Magnetrix are searching for an exit."

"And she's alright?" Toad asked.

Charles nodded. Sean watched Toad exhale. Lance relaxed a little. Even Senyaka looked a bit more at ease. It appeared that they cared for their leader. It was a good sign. It meant that they would be more willing to work with them to get her back.

"Let's get moving," Sean said.


	22. Chapter 22

September 3, 1974

Charles pushed the wheels of his wheelchair, propelling himself forward. He felt like an idiot. He knew that he would be useless in combat. It would have been better for him to stay on the Blackbird. He certainly had the reach to be able to play his part from there. What was he thinking?

He knew that he wasn't thinking that, in all probability, a great deal of rational thought had shut down. Charles remembered the achingly joyful way that Moira had accepted him back into her mind. He wasn't sure if she knew that he wanted to repair things, but she had taken his presence in her mind as a good thing.

Her faith in him was astounding. He knew that he didn't deserve it, but he was going to help her. She deserved someone who was going to help her. Charles knew that she hadn't regained consciousness: he would have known if she had.

It was difficult for him to control his anger at the situation. Charles had always prided himself on being able to keep a cool head. However, this wasn't supposed to happen. Moira was a noncombatant. Erik had understood that and the Brotherhood had kept thier distance. She'd never been in danger, not like this. The anger was fighting to make its way to the surface, and Charles had difficulty pushing it down.

Ahead of him he could see a few elevators. He stopped and Sean looked at the door marked stairs. He opened it and saw that the way was littered with debris and the bodies of soldiers, making it impossible to go down. Charles knew that he would have had trouble with it even if it hadn't been blocked.

Sean hesitated at the elevators. He looked at Charles. Neither of them felt comfortable with using them, but they were the only way down. Sean motioned forward and the two teams squeezed in, the members of the Brotherhood glaring at Clarice and Ororo. Ororo glared back, but Clarice looked at them impassively.

"This is probably a trap," she said.

"Yeah," Sean sighed.

Charles cocked his head.

_Blink, I want you to get your strongest crystal ready_, he thought, projecting his thoughts to everyone in the elevator, _If it comes to it, teleport us all out of here. _

He saw the Brotherhood members wince at the sensation of him in their minds. Lance gritted his teeth and Senyaka tightened his grip on his whips. Once again Toad shook his head, looking almost panicked. Charles could only wonder at the strange fear he seemed to command amongst the Brotherhood.

Sean pressed the descent button. Charles watched as Clarice began weaving a crystal out of air molecules, almost absently. He could see that it was bigger than her usual ones: it would have to be for all of them. She worked fast. He'd helped her figure out how to make her work strong, for her to make crystals faster. She told him it soothed her, and in her early days at the Institute she had needed something to soothe her.

The elevator lurched. Charles heard a twanging noise. Seconds later the elevator began to plummet towards the ground. He saw Clarice throw the crystal at the door to the elevator. Pink light nearly blinded him. The world turned upside down and Charles crashed out of his wheelchair. He banged his head up against something and a weight came down on his arm, not enough to break it, but enough to hurt.

He saw the rest of the X-men and Brotherhood tumbling around in the pink light. There was a crash and Charles hit the ceiling of the elevator. He fell to the floor, but he could feel that he was, for the most part, unharmed. He checked the legs that he could no longer feel. They weren't bleeding, and he couldn't see any bone.

Around him everyone was getting up. Sean looked at Clarice.

"Blink, you teleported the elevator?" he asked.

"I didn't have enough time to make a crystal big enough for everyone," she said, her voice uncertain, "The only way I could do it was to teleport one object."

She sounded uncertain. Sean smiled.

"Nice job," Sean said.

He made his way over to Charles, righting the wheelchair. He turned back and grabbed Charles by the chest. With Sean carrying him he made it back to his seat.

"Looks like Cyclops wasn't joking about Sinister rigging this place up," he said.

"No," Charles said, "It appears not."

He rubbed his hands together.

"We're going to have to take this a little more carefully from here on out," he said, "The floor moved upstairs and there were extra walls. We don't know what else he has planned."

Sean nodded. He frowned and then cleared his throat.

"I want to check something real quick," he said.

"By all means," Charles said.

Sean took a deep breath and let out a single, warbling note. Charles could see different parts of the walls in front of them wobble. Sean stopped and shook his head.

"Looks like he's got some dividers set up," he said.

"Anything we can do about that?" Ororo asked.

"Not that I know of," Sean said.

He glanced at the Brotherhood members.

"Can any of you do anything about that?"

Lance scratched his chin and stepped forward.

"How big are the dividers?" he said.

"Not very," Sean said.

Lance's frown deepened. He shrugged and began tapping his foot on the ground. Charles felt the ground tremble. Beads of sweat appeared on Lance's forehead.

"Okay," Lance said, panting, "see if any are left."

Sean let out another warbling note. Nothing trembled. Sean looked back at Lance.

"You sealed up the different divides?" he asked.

"Not easily," Lance said, "Delicate work's not exactly my forte."

He cracked his neck.

"Can we get moving already?" he asked.

"Sure," Sean said.

Sean walked behind Charles and began to push the wheelchair.

_You can stop that. I can get around on my own._

Sean looked down at him. Charles knew how angry he sounded, how it was an irrational anger. Still, he could get around without any assistance. He wasn't weak, although his body had failed him a long time ago. Charles was tired of being treated as such when they needed to be concentrating on rescuing his wife and students.

_As you say. _

Letting go of the wheelchair handles Sean fell into step next to him. Charles wished he could apologize, but there was too much going on in his head. He reached out, hoping that Moira had woken up. All he felt when he reached for her was a warm darkness though. At least he could feel the presence of her mind, know that she was still alive.

He reached for Scott's mind. It was slightly more panicky.

_Professor, he's starting to talk in riddles,_ Scott said, _He seems to think that I'm actually enjoying it. You need to hurry up, I don't like the way that he's looking at Archangel._

_ We're on our way,_ Charles thought.

He pushed the wheels of his wheelchair on further. He kept his eyes on the hallway in front of them. Every now and then Sean let out a warbling note and checked the passageway. Every time that they found something amiss Lance stepped forward. He seemed to be getting tired though. Smaller earthquakes appeared to take more effort than large ones.

"Are we getting closer?" Sean asked.

"We are," Charles said.

They proceeded, continuing to be as cautious as possible. Charles quickly touched Warren's mind. Sinister hadn't hurt him, but he was certainly talking quite a bit. He considered trying to contact Boom-Boom, but an unfamiliar presence in her mind with no explanation might cause her to panic. He didn't want to alert Sinister of what he was doing.

Charles did another quick mental scan of the room. To his surprise and delight he felt Moira wake up.

_Moira?_ he thought.

_Charles?_

_ I'm here,_ he thought, _Are you alright?_

_ I'm fine. How are the others?_

_ They're alright, although I'm worried that Sinister might not keep them in that state for much longer,_ Charles thought.

He felt her thoughts solidify with determination.

_Maybe I can find some way to distract him. _

Charles felt his throat tighten.

_Moira, please don't do anything rash. _

_ They need help. He's not interested in me as anything other than a hostage. I might be able to use that,_ Moira thought, _If I can get him angry, or irritated-_

_ No!_

The thought came out harsher than he'd intended. Moira's thoughts went silent, perhaps in shock. He pushed his wheelchair forwards, feeling his hands trembling.

_Moira, please,_ he thought, _I don't…I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. Please, just keep a low profile. _

There was a pause. Charles wondered if he had shocked her into silence. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to tell her that he meant it and that things were going to change. He wouldn't yell at her again. He just couldn't bear the thought of Sinister hurting her. Having his students in that madman's grasp was bad enough. Moira was his wife though.

_Charles…_

The rest of her thoughts were drowned out as Sean screamed. Charles snapped his attention to the hallway in front of him. Several soldiers were firing and Charles wheeled himself out of the way. Ororo was concentrating on hand-to-hand. Using her powers in such a small space would have been catastrophic. Clarice began flinging out crystals and he saw that the Brotherhood had wasted no time in joining the fight.

Charles had to admit that the Brotherhood members worked together well. They weren't interacting with the X-men, but amongst themselves they seemed to know what they were doing. They had been trained to work as a cohesive unit. Charles wondered if that was something new to the Brotherhood training program.

_Charles?_

He briefly reached back towards his wife.

_I'm sorry. It appears that Sinister's rolled out the welcoming mat, _he thought, _I'll be in contact with you soon. I promise._

_ You're not in the Blackbird?_

Her thoughts thrummed with surprise. For a moment he winced, but then again, he hadn't been on an actual field mission in years. Even when he'd been on one he'd remained in the Blackbird with Moira, vetting out different signals. Charles managed a wry smile as the gunfire continued next to him. He was safe behind the wall, but he knew he needed to do something, and soon. He wasn't going to be a deadweight on the team that he'd helped found.

_No. _

_ That's a bad idea, _she thought.

Her thoughts were edged with concern. He held back his answer in order to reach out and put several soldiers to sleep. As they fell he issued his response.

_I'm coming for you_, he thought.

He could almost hear her sharp intake of breath.

_You…you don't need to prove anything to me_, Moira thought.

Charles laughed. He reached out and put three other soldiers to sleep.

_It's not about that, _he thought_, I just…I need to make sure that you're safe. I need to know that Moira. I need to see you myself. In the past we've always face danger together. I feel no reason why this should change. _

Her thoughts hummed with conflicted emotions.

_It's going to be fine,_ he thought, _I need to concentrate on this. But I swear, I'll be back with you soon._

_ I'll be waiting. _

Charles knew she would. He concentrated on the battle and shoved two more soldiers into unconsciousness. When he couldn't sense any more minds he wheeled himself forwards. Sean wiped some blood off his lips and nodded at Charles. No one seemed harmed beyond the most minor of injuries.

"I can only imagine that there are some more of these guys waiting for us," Sean said.

"Undoubtedly," Charles said.

Sean took a deep breath.

"Let me just check this hallway-"

He didn't have a chance to finish. Charles watched as walls came down from the ceiling and through the walls. The floor seemed to be shifting too. The rumblings sent him out of his wheelchair, crashing to the ground. He saw Clarice move towards him, but a wall came down from the ceiling, separating him from the rest.

The floor became smooth and tilted downwards. Unable to grasp anything Charles began to slide down.


	23. Chapter 23

September 4, 1974

One of the students cried out. Jean rushed to their side. She had given most of the students some aspirin and penicillin. For others she had given them some morphine and painkillers, achingly realizing that there was nothing else that she could do for them.

She swabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. Jean could feel his temperature even beneath the cloth. He was burning up. The fever seemed to start around the same time that the gray veins became prominent around their eyes. She knew that, unfortunately, the next step was that black spit would start gathering in their throat. It would quickly turn thick and they would have to sit up to breath.

Across from her flames began wrapping around a student's body. Jean got up and started to move other students away from him. There was no way that he could control his powers, and it was obvious that the use of his powers was causing him pain.

Jean wished she could do something for him, but she didn't know what. She already had the unaffected delegates, humans, helping out. They all had masks on. Jean didn't know just how the virus was spread. Jean had her own suspicions, but until she figured it out for sure, she wasn't taking any chances.

Even then she was short-staffed. Many of the younger members of the conference were in a deep state of shock. Jean didn't blame them. They weren't in their world anymore. They were in her world, and she considered herself lucky that she was well-equipped to handle emergencies.

She glanced outside. Jean could see that the soldiers still ringed the building. The press were out there, as well as several law enforcement officers containing the area. She knew that Sean had talked to some friends to keep the SWAT teams out. If too many people went in then it would be a giant mess. While she knew that people would be confused by the lack of SWAT teams around the building, Jean hoped that the government had the good sense to stay out of things.

Jean finished wiping the student's forehead and got up. She felt exhausted. Jean looked at her watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. That morning she had thought that, by then, she would have been asleep, excited about the conferences that would take place the next day.

Now she was almost dead on her feet, trying to halt a disease that confused her. Her boyfriend had been captured, along with several others, and everyone else she knew was fighting for their lives. She hadn't heard anything from the Professor or the rest of the X-men. As such, she had no idea what had happened to Scott. She knew that she was alive, she could almost feel it, but she didn't know how much longer he would remain so. Not with the man who had done this to peaceful students holding him.

His best protection, and she knew that it wasn't a very good one, was that Sinister was fascinated with his bloodline. It meant that he wouldn't kill Scott or Alex if he didn't have to. Jean guiltily knew that that didn't protect Warren, Moira, Magnetrix, or the other girl who had been taken. Jean felt guilty that she couldn't find it in herself to care very much about the Brotherhood members, and even worse that she didn't worry as much about Warren or Moira as she did about Scott. The only reason she really worried about Alex was because he was Scott's brother. At least she knew he could take care of himself though.

Jean sighed and looked over at the rest of the students. She had always prided herself as being smart. In a team where everyone else was stronger than her, at least she had that. She had recognized that she was never going to be fast like Clarice or strong like Ororo. Her powers were valuable, but they were weak.

So she had sought to compensate them. She had begged Dr. McCoy to teach her to act as a medic to the team, pushed herself to learn the codes that they used. She studied hard, always afraid of being left behind by the rest. In time her mind and her medical abilities made her a valuable member of the team.

Now neither were doing their job. Jean had no idea what to do about the virus that was running rampant in the young mutants. She didn't know how to stop or contain it. All she could do was treat the symptoms, and the symptoms were alarmingly vague. It frustrated her that, no matter how much she had thought she knew, it turned out that she didn't know very much at all. Not enough to help them.

* * *

"Now, it's time for some education," Sinister said.

Warren looked warily as Sinister turned one of his feathers backwards and forwards before yanking it out. Warren gritted his teeth as Sinister walked away.

"Back in the day, people were very stupid," Sinister said, "Stupid and superstitious. I believe that mutantkind first appeared many, many years ago, but people didn't recognize them. They made up silly little stories about them or tried to fit them into an existing theology or mythology. This is where we get the Cheyarafim."

"I could care less!" Warren spat.

"They were very unique, if the writings are any indicator," Sinister said.

Warren looked at him disbelievingly. He turned to Scott.

"Does he always go on like this?" he said.

"He does," Scott sighed.

Sinister ignored both of them and placed the feather in a petri dish. He fixed a microscope over it and peered in. Warren could see that the Brotherhood girl was watching him too, her breaths short. He wondered if she was new to all of this, how frightening it must be for her. Warren had been fighting for years, and even he was feeling the fear creep in.

Then again, she belonged to the Brotherhood. He couldn't afford to have too much sympathy for her.

"Now, I do believe that Scott, with his primary mutation, is unique among mutants," Sinister said, "But that doesn't mean that there aren't other special mutants out there too."

Warren tried his bonds. The idea of being tortured and experimented on was not one that he relished. However, he didn't like the idea of spending hours listening to Sinister gush over how special Scott was. There was already enough of that at the Institute where the golden boy led missions. Not all of them had turned out perfectly, but no one else had done that.

"There is an old legend in Europe in the Alps that there was a secluded valley where Angels and Demons dwelled, the last soldiers of the war that cast Satan down," Sinister said, "They said that no one ever told them the war was over. Some rubbish like that."

He abandoned his microscope and put the feather in an airtight container. He leaned over it and began writing.

"They called these two groups the Cheyarafim and the Neyaphem," Sinister said, "The Cheyarafim looked like, for lack of a better word, Angels. The Neyaphem traditionally looked quite a bit like Demons."

Warren kept his eyes glued on Sinister. The man was speaking as though he was giving a lecture. Warren didn't trust his casual speech.

"My theory is that they were a group of mutants that inbred so much that certain traits became predominant," he said, "Because each race had to survive the other, they adapted. And they fought so much that, well, many of them and their specialized mutations died out. I saw a Neyaphem not too long ago with the Brotherhood."

He frowned.

"At least I think he was one," he said, "There are some mutants that, unfortunately, just so happen to look like Neyaphem or Cheyarafim but lack certain qualities. I never got the chance to find out about him. Black Tom was sloppy even on the best of days."

Warren thought about Azazel, wondering if he was the one that Sinister was referring too. He certainly couldn't think of anyone else. As he wondered he saw Sinister pick up a scalpel, looking at it thoughtfully. Warren swallowed.

"While I'm waiting, I really can't afford to waste another opportunity," he said, smiling at Warren.

He lunged out and stabbed the Brotherhood girl in the arm. She cried out as Sinister removed the scalpel, leaving behind a deep gash.

"Stop it!" Scott yelled.

Sinister sighed before grabbing a petri dish and walking over to Warren. He was prepared for the blow when it came, but it still hurt. Warren gritted his teeth as Sinister collected his blood in the petri dish.

The Brotherhood girl whimpered. Warren could vaguely see her bone.

"Oh do be quiet," Sinister said.

He put the petri dish down and picked up some bandages. Warren stared as he began to dress his wound.

"She's going to bleed out at that rate!" Scott yelled.

"Not if I'm right," Sinister said, "And if I'm right, I can't afford to waste any of this."

He finished tying the bandage and picked up the petri dish. He grabbed a swab and walked over to the Brotherhood girl and dabbed the swab in the blood. He began dabbing it on the girl's injury, despite the fact that she was gritting her teeth against the pain.

"The hell?" Warren demanded.

"Shhh," Sinister said.

He withdrew and watched. Warren looked at the girl, who had her eyes closed. To his surprise he saw her wound begin to close up.

"What...?" Warren asked.

Sinister put the petri dish down and began laughing, his shoulders silently shaking. Warren stared as his silent laughter became full blown, his sides shaking and his eyes glowing. He turned to the two of them, his face twisted and pulled into a manic smile.

"I've found one," he said, "After all these years, I've found one."

He turned to Scott, his face still glowing.

"I feel a little like I did when I found you and your brother," he said, "Not quite, but it's the closest thing that I'm going to get to that feeling."

For a moment Warren felt irritation that he was, yet again, second to Scott. He pushed down his feelings though, almost disgusted at how ridiculous they were in the current situation. Who would want to come first in a mad scientist's attention?

Sinister walked up to Scott, his face still glowing.

"This virus is only thanks to your genes," he said, "It's only thanks to the fact that your family, remarkably, passed down this mutation from generation to generation."

Warren watched Scott turn his face away, possibly with shame. He wondered if Scott thought that the virus was his fault. He couldn't. Warren might not like Scott, but he knew that he was smarter than that.

"Thank you so much," Sinister said.

Scott bowed his head further. Warren stared. He did believe it. Something burning started in his throat. Scott was a panderer, a person who was so perfect they became annoying, but no one deserved what Sinister was putting him through. Sinister opened his mouth to speak, and Warren snapped.

"Are you done yet?" he snapped, "Are you done being off your damn rocker? Are you? Because there are a lot better things we can be doing right now, trust me."

Sinister looked at him, affronted.

"I wasn't talking to you," he said.

"No, but you were flapping your lips about a million miles an hour about absolutely nothing!" Warren said, "You know what, don't thank Cyclops for what you're doing up there. Thank yourself you twisted piece of insanity! Only someone like you would see the original mutation and think 'deadly virus!' Some scientist you are!"

Immediately Sinister moved forwards and curled his hand around Warren's throat. Warren choked under the pressure.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, boy," he hissed.

"Let him go," Scott snapped.

Sinister didn't even turn around.

"You all think that you're in the position to make demands," he said.

His smile curled up further and Warren felt chills run up his spine.

"Maybe it's time to remind you who's really in control," he said.


	24. Chapter 24

September 4, 1974

"He really planned for this, didn't he?" Lorna said, "How long do you think he was tunneling underneath here?"

"It's hard to say," Alex said.

He waved the flare around.

"I mean, considering the scope, I'd usually say that it was a month," Alex said, "But it's Sinister. It might have been a week."

"You give him a lot of credit," Lorna said.

"Unfortunately, he's earned it," Alex said.

The flare ran out. He tossed it to the side and pulled out one of his own. Lorna watched in amusement.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, "I just didn't expect you to have flares too."

He shook his head and tapped his utility belt.

"When we go on long trips we carry certain necessities with us," he said, "No less than you do."

"Interesting, because most times I don't see X-men with flares," Lorna said.

"Then they were on short missions," Alex said, "I don't believe in overkill."

Lorna snorted in disbelief. He knew it was well-warranted. It was a lie, but he didn't feel like telling her about the fight he'd gotten in with Charles about it. He'd felt foolish insisting that so much equipment be carried, especially since they had the Blackbird with them. However, he'd known that they would need something.

They had ended up compromising. Hank had designed the next set of uniforms to have pockets hidden in the sleeves as well as pouches in the utility belt. Small things like certain medical supplies, tablets for water, and a miniature flashlight, could be carried in them. Alex still wished that the utility belts were standard issue for every mission. He knew it would have made Jean and Warren's lives easier if they'd had it with them when Sinister had arrived.

He thought of Scott. He didn't know where he was. Charles had told him that Sinister had captured him along with Warren, but there hadn't been any news after that. Alex worried that something had happened, but Charles had been surrounded by the X-men. They were probably close to Scott and Warren right now, although he had the feeling that they would have told him if they were.

The one consolation Alex had was that his brother was probably still alive. Scott had told him what had happened the last time that they had run into Sinister, his plans for Scott. However, having his existence prolonged because he was being tortured wasn't a good alternative. Alex rubbed his collar bone absently.

Scott was strong and smart, but Alex knew that Warren and a Brotherhood member had also been captured. Sinister would try to use his sense of responsibility against him, and Alex knew that was his great weakness, as well as his great strength. Sometimes Scott reminded him very much of their father.

"What, nothing to say?" Lorna asked.

He blinked and looked over his shoulder. Alex had to keep on his toes. He'd told Lorna about the Brotherhood girl getting captured, and her face had hardened. She'd started to walk much faster after that, her mind evidently bent on attempting to rescue her teammate. However, unlike him, she didn't seem quite so distracted.

Then again, he was pretty sure that the Brotherhood girl wasn't her sibling.

"Whatever Trixie," he said.

He lit up another hallway. He shook his head.

"This place really does go on forever," he said.

"It would appear so," Lorna said.

Alex shook his head and started down the passageway, Lorna close behind him.

"So, what's this Sinister guy's deal?" Lorna said, "Besides being a sick bastard who experiments on mutants."

Despite everything Alex had to crack a smile.

"We've only run into him twice, and the last time only briefly when we were fighting Black Tom," Alex said, "We don't know much about him."

"Archangel told me that Beast ripped his heart out," Lorna said.

Alex nodded.

"Yeah. We'd heard reports from South America that were…weird to say the least," he said, "So we went down there. Sinister was using the place as his own private laboratory. A whole region. Inhabitants called it the Savage Land. It was a pretty accurate descriptor."

"Jesus," Lorna said.

He winced, remembering his own times in the swampy region, the triumph that they had felt afterwards. Alex remembered the brutal reality when they returned to Westchester though, of the news of Maeve's death along with that of Sean's daughter, or so they'd thought. The news and Sean's subsequent attack on Black Tom had left his friend mentally fragile for a long time afterwards.

Alex frowned. During both occasions Black Tom had been involved. He felt uneasy. Surely the two of them couldn't have been working together back then? It wasn't like Sinister had been interested in Terry or anything. Still, his association in the two events was something that he would have to look into later.

"And?" Lorna said.

"Sorry," Alex said.

"You're getting pretty spacey on me Scholastic," Lorna said.

"Falling down and ripping open your shoulder does that to people," he said.

Lorna smiled and he smiled in turn.

"Right," Alex said, "Where was I?"

"The Savage Land," Lorna said.

"Got it," he said, "So we fought him, and it became apparent pretty quickly that he's a hard man to take down, a hard man to even slow down. So Beast took the direct route."

Alex could still hear the sound that Sinister's organs had made when Hank had reached inside his chest, the strange ripping noise. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

"We thought that took care of him," Alex said, "So we went to the labs. It's where we found-"

He stopped and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yes?" Lorna said.

"It's not important," he said.

"No, go back and tell me," Lorna said.

She sounded irritated. Alex longed to just tell her. He knew that he could trust her, although it was a disturbing thought. Alex had a lot of those around Lorna. He'd already told her what had happened with his parents although, as he'd said, it hadn't been a secret. Everyone had known that.

Not everyone knew that Clarice had been found in South America, a girl barely out of childhood traumatized into silence with several other children though. She'd only really been able to come out of her grief when they'd started training her for the X-men. Sinister had never had any direct contact with her, which was why he supposed that she wasn't frightened of him. He'd never asked though.

Alex didn't need to ask how she'd feel about him sharing her story with Lorna though. He knew she wouldn't appreciate it.

"It's not important information, okay?" Alex said, "It just isn't. If it pertained to what was happening here, then I'd tell you."

"Really," Lorna said.

The skepticism in her tone was rampant. Alex glared at her. After everything, she was doubting him? It made him angry, and something else prickled beneath his skin.

"You know I would," he said.

Lorna hesitated and then scratched the back of her neck. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I do," she said, "I trust you."

She paused after the words left her lips.

"I shouldn't have said that," Lorna said.

Alex bit the inside of his cheek again.

"No, you shouldn't have," he said.

He released his cheek.

"We really shouldn't…all of this," Alex said.

His words sounded pitiful and stupid. Lorna laughed and shook her head, her thick green hair clouding the air around her.

"It's too late for that," she said, "You already told me that we were friends you know. Months ago."

"I remember," Alex said, "You agreed with me."

"Because you were right," Lorna said.

She drew level with him, one of her hands tracing the walls. He wondered if she was going to say anything else.

"I always wondered why my father still considered him friends with the Professor," she said at last.

Alex didn't like the comparison.

"We should have known better though," he said.

Lorna nodded, a faint look of amusement crossing her face.

"Yeah, I should have just been a total witch to you when we met," she said.

"Should have been?" Alex said, the words coming unbidden, "I think the phrase you're looking for is 'continued being.'"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Have it your way, but if that's true, then you should've kept that stick in your ass," she said.

He laughed.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" he asked.

"You can say that again," Lorna said.

* * *

It felt like Moira's head was splitting open. She managed to focus her eyes and look around her. She hadn't had the strength to do that before, only just hearing murmurings from the room next to her, as well as some strange, clunky noises. The murmurings were the only reason she knew where Scott and Warren were. For the first time she could feel that the drug was wearing off and, for once, she could think clearly.

Moira couldn't hear Charles's voice, but she was sure that he was nearby. He wouldn't leave her. They were probably still in battle and his telepathy was needed. Moira remembered his gentle touch in her mind, remembered his concern, how he hadn't held back any of his feelings, his worry. She couldn't help but be touched by it.

Carefully Moira packed up the memory until she could use it. It would be something to hold onto. At the moment she was being held by a mad scientist, along with a few of her students. Charles would come for her: she had no doubt about that. However, until he reached them along with the rest of the X-men, she would have to find out as much information as possible.

It was the only logical way to be useful, especially after Charles had asked her to stay and wait. She didn't like it, but there was some logic to what he'd said. She didn't want to get in their way.

Moira forced herself to sit up and look around. Her head was clearing by the minute, sharpening her thoughts. She could see that she was in what had probably, at one point or another, been one of the conference rooms. She could just see the piles of fold-up chairs that were stacked haphazardly around the room.

She tugged on her wrists. Moira had been locked down onto what she could only assume was some sort of medical table. Then again, knowing who held her, it was more likely to be a dissection table. She shuddered at the thought, thinking of what Scott had told them, of Clarice's shell-shocked attitude when she first came to the Institute.

Moira flexed her wrists. There was some give to the restraints, which surprised her. Perhaps Sinister hadn't put much stock in her because she was a human. The thought was amusing. People had been underestimating her for years, first because she was a woman, and now because she was a human.

She heard sounds from the next room. Moira put her head back down and closed her eyes, straining her ears. She didn't know if Sinister was planning on coming back into the room or not, but if he was, then she would have to pretend that she was still out. She didn't have any other weapons to fight with.

"Yes, I suppose I have made you too comfortable. That was my mistake."

Moira bit her tongue.

"You two can go together," Sinister said, "You're such good friends after all. I was saving this for later, transport, but it might be good to box you up right now. I need to check my samples."

She heard footsteps, almost as though he were pacing.

"As for you…I don't really know who you are. But I could always use an extra."

There was a sound like furniture being moved.

"Don't try to get out," Sinister said, "Any sudden pressure on the door results in electric shocks. And, by the way, don't hurt yourselves. Both of your blood is quite precious to me, although for different reasons."

She heard Sinister laugh, the sound high and bitter. Moira felt chills run down her spine.

"After all, what scientist hurts their subjects before their time?"

Moira took a deep but quiet breath as his footsteps died away. She opened her eyes and flexed her wrists again, feeling the restraints. She didn't know what Sinister was doing to her students. There was no way that she could wait for Charles and the X-men though. Not anymore. She would apologize to Charles later, but she was going to have to get out on her own.


	25. Chapter 25

September 4, 1974

The door shut. Warren heard the locks clicking home in the small containment chamber. He could, if he listened hard, hear Sinister move away.

"Think he's gone?" Warren asked.

"I do," Scott said, "He's probably going to go see how his other experiments are going."

Scott got to his feet. He looked at the walls, examining them.

"I'm not going to lie, things have gotten a little worse for us," Scott said, "I'm not sure how to get out of here."

There was an undertone in Scott's voice that Warren didn't like.

"You think it's my fault we were put in here, don't you?" Warren asked.

Scott didn't say anything, just continued examining the walls of the containment chamber they were in. He skimmed his fingers over the walls and Warren could see the sparks that formed there. His lack of a response irritated him. He knew that now wasn't the time to be doing this, but he'd seen the judgment in his eyes.

"Don't you?" Warren asked.

"It doesn't matter," Scott said.

"You do," Warren said.

Scott let his hands fall to his side.

"He was taunting us, but he was keeping us out in the open," Scott said, "We were also distracting him to some extent."

"When the distraction is getting cut up and having your blood flung around, I don't think that's a good thing," Warren said.

"It isn't," Scott agreed, "But it's something. Now he's out there doing God knows what and we're in here."

"I wasn't the one who started snapping at him," Warren said.

"No, but you were the one who pretty much called him a hack," Scott said.

"So you liked what he was saying to you?" Warren asked.

"No," Scott said, "But you shouldn't have made him mad. I understand what you were trying to do, but sometimes we have to take the hits for the greater good."

Warren clenched his fist. Scott sounded as though he were quoting someone: probably his brother, although it might have been the Professor.

"Thanks for the lesson," he said, "I'll be sure to remember never to stick up for you again."

Scott paused before folding his arms.

"You really don't like me, do you?" he asked.

His tone wasn't angry: it was just mildly surprised. It only served to irritate Warren further.

"Oh, gee, I wonder what tipped you off," Warren said.

Scott swallowed, looking uncomfortable.

"Is this about Jean?" he asked.

Warren threw his hands into the air. He wondered how Scott could be so oblivious, could only see things in one light.

"Because if it is…it wasn't meant to hurt you," Scott said, "It was…that was just the way that it worked out-"

"Will you shut up about Jean!" Warren snapped.

Scott fell silent. Warren shook his head.

"I wish it was about Jean," he said, "I wish that was the only thing. It would be so simple if that was all."

"Then what is it?" Scott asked.

He sounded genuinely puzzled.

"What, can't bear the thought of one of your teammates not kissing your feet?" Warren asked.

"That's uncalled for," Scott said.

"It's not uncalled for if it's true," Warren said.

Scott sighed.

"So you don't like me. I'd like to at least know why," Scott said.

His tone was so innocent that it made Warren ache to punch him. He tried to calm himself down, tried to remind himself who the real enemy was, but it was too much.

"Because everything, everything has worked out for you," Warren said, "You never even need to try."

Scott blinked, but Warren kept going.

"You're first in everything," he said, "Yeah, I got into this conference because my grades were slightly better than yours. But from day one it's always been about how awesome you were. How nice you were. You believe it, your brother believes it, the Professor believes it, and Jean believes it too. Everyone has always believed it, and you've always come in first."

He slammed his fist against the wall. A sharp electric shock travelled up his arm, but he didn't care.

"I've had it up to here with how perfect you are, okay? You just go about with this holier-than-thou confidence about your mutation, about everything that you do," Warren said, "You never actually get mad because you make it seem like it's beneath you, you never get scared, you never-"

"I get all of those things!" Scott snarled.

Warren paused. Scott had spoken through gritted teeth. From outside the door there was a slight scraping noise, although Warren was more worried about Scott at the moment.

"You think that I'm not scared right now?" he said, "We're being held by someone who I know wants to cut me up and see how I work. I don't know how the others are doing. My brother is somewhere around here, but I don't know where or what's happening. I don't know if you've noticed, but the Professor hasn't contacted us in a while. Why do you think that is?"

He didn't give Warren a chance to answer.

"Right, you didn't notice that," Scott said, "But I have to, because 'from day one,' as you put it, I needed to be that way. I needed to keep it in because I wanted to make my brother proud, because I wanted to lead after him."

He jabbed his finger in his direction. There was a clunk from outside the chamber, but he was too fixed on Scott to pay it much attention.

"And don't you dare say that it's been easy either," Scott said, "I know you have a screwed-up home life, but I spent most of my childhood in a foster system believing my parents and brother were dead. Before he found me I thought I was alone in the world!"

His words were short, sharp, and erratic.

"Yeah, I've been luckier than you," Scott said, "I know that. But I have worked for everything that I have, and that meant hours of studying, extra Danger Room sessions, you name it."

Scott tapped his goggles with one hand, the other hand gesturing wildly.

"You think wings are weird? I got arrested the first time I used my powers. I can't see without these on!" Scott said, "Not without blowing things up! So now the world looks red. Everything looks red!"

His voice increased in pitch. It was frightening. Warren had always known about Alex's temper: it was infamous among the X-men. He'd always assumed that Alex had been the one in the family to inherit all the rage, leaving nothing behind for Scott. It appeared that he had been wrong.

"And Jean, it was an awful situation," Scott said, "I didn't want to hurt anyone, but that was the way it worked out. We've been together for over a year now. I was upset that you were hurt, and you know that I was the first one who tried to patch things up. But you told me you were good!"

He threw his hands into the air.

"I'm not the telepath, I have to take things at face value!" Scott said, "I trusted you about that! So quit the pity party and get over yourself!"

Warren stared at Scott, who was breathing hard. He tried to manage a sneer, but he knew it was a pitiful thing.

"Look who's gotten off their high horse," he managed.

Scott's fists clenched. From outside there was another clunk, and the door swung open. Warren turned and saw Moira staring at them, her glance cool.

"Are you quite done?" she asked.

"How did you-?" Scott asked.

"It's just a basic keypad system," Moira said, "After I got the restraints off this was pretty much child's play. So I open it up and what do I find?"

Her voice was harsh and frustrated.

"I find what I thought were two of my husband's best students bickering about God only knows what," Moira said, "And before either of you can say anything, I don't care who started it. I only care that it wasn't ended."

Warren swallowed and he could hear Scott shift his weight.

"Right now your friends and brother and my husband are fighting to save you," Moira said, "Right now we're on borrowed time. I don't know when Sinister will be back and we'll have to make a run for it."

She crossed her arms and glared at them.

"So I ask you for the last time, are you done?"

Warren saw Scott unclench his fist. Scott turned and looked at Warren before shaking his head and walking past him.

"We're done," he said.

Moira glanced at Warren.

"Right?" she asked.

"Right," Warren said.

"Good," Moira said.

Warren followed Scott outside of the room, feeling rage and humiliation welling up inside of him.

* * *

Charles groaned and sat up. His back hurt terribly and his arms were sore. He looked down at his legs, checking them for injuries. Once more, nothing was broken. He could only be thankful for that, although being separated from the rest of the X-men was not something he had planned on.

A few feet away from him he saw his wheelchair. It had been turned over in the fall, but the floor was smooth enough for it to roll on. He could still use it. Charles pulled himself over to it. Although his legs had atrophied with disuse his arms were strong. It had been the only thing that he could train, and he had done it despite his belief that he would never require it.

He was grateful for it now. He turned the wheelchair onto its correct side and pulled himself onto it. His legs dangled uselessly behind him. Charles took a deep breath, trying to forget the pain and frustration he felt at not being able to use them. After over ten years of being in a wheelchair he still hadn't quite gotten used to it.

Charles finally pulled himself into a seated position. He repositioned his legs and began wheeling himself forward. Sinister had wanted to separate and trap them. He hoped that the rest of the X-men were together and that they hadn't been separated from the Brotherhood members. They didn't seem too disciplined. He supposed that they were new recruits. Either way, it could be a disaster if they were allowed to wander around, leaderless.

He turned a corner and saw a small group of soldiers coming down it. They aimed their guns and Charles's hand flew to his temple. Immediately they folded in on themselves, asleep. The extravagant use of his powers left him feeling a little weak, but he couldn't let that hold himself down. His mind was his greatest and only weapon. Charles intended to use it to its full potential.

Taking another deep breath he wheeled himself over to the soldiers. He leaned over and put his fingertips on the nearest soldier's forehead. Although he didn't need to touch a person to read their thoughts, it made it easier. He wasn't going to waste energy when he could use an easier method instead.

He flickered through the soldier's memories. He didn't know much. However, he did know where Moira was being kept. Charles saw his wife being dropped onto a table with Sinister nearby, his expression coldly curious. His breath shortened and he gripped the arms of his wheelchair. He had to remind himself to remain calm in the soldier's mind.

Charles pulled his hand away and continued to wheel himself down the hallway. He hoped that, when everything was said and done, he would be able to rejoin the X-men. A one man mission was difficult, even if he had better mobility. He'd been the one who had always urged Alex to use caution, to remember his teammates.

However, he couldn't afford to waste time. Not with so many lives at stake. He felt exhausted and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't afford to waste energy contact Moira for another few minutes. If she was a hostage then it meant that she was safe, at least temporarily. It wasn't much of a consolation, but he took what he could get.

He sighed and continued wheeling himself down the hall. At least Moira was staying put. He would be able to find her easier that way. Charles hoped that she was heading his warning and keeping a low profile. Sinister was using her as a shield, but that didn't guarantee anything. She was out of the battle for the moment, and thus safe.


	26. Chapter 26

September 4, 1974

Sean could hear his head throbbing, feel the pain pulsing through his body. After the dust had settled they hadn't been able to find Charles. He hadn't heard a peep from him telepathically. That could mean several things, but none of them were good.

He hadn't been able to find him. Sean knew that, at least in some capacity, he could take care of himself. Still, it was a limited capacity. The average soldier certainly wouldn't be able to take him down. He didn't know what other tricks Sinister had up his sleeve though.

Sean pushed a piece of rubble out of his way and continued on. He wasn't one hundred percent sure where they were going. Charles had been their compass, and now he only had Charles's vague instructions to follow. It wasn't enough.

Behind him he could make out the rest of his team, as well as the members of the Brotherhood. He felt uncomfortable without the advantage of numbers, as well as their growing restlessness. When they found Scott, Warren, and Moira then, even with the addition of the Brotherhood girl, they would outnumber them again. Once they found Alex and Charles the odds would be even better. He just wasn't comfortable with how they were at the moment.

Another group of soldiers came around the corner. Sean swore. Just how many soldiers did Sinister have? He remembered Black Tom's small army. Perhaps it had all been lent to him by Sinister, but that still didn't answer how he had gotten that army in the first place.

Sean screamed, directing the sonic waves away from the group. Ororo and Clarice, the two closest to him, winced, but to them it was just a slight discomfort. It had the first few soldiers on their knees.

Clarice threw two of her crystals, hitting the soldiers in the chest. They teleported in front of her, disoriented. She punched the first one and took the other one down in a high kick. The first one brought his gun around and Ororo threw him into the wall.

Toad leapt in front of them and began moving from soldier to soldier, his limbs a flurry as he clawed and scratched. Senyaka had taken his whips out and Sean moved to avoid them as he directly entered the fray.

It was over in a few minutes, leaving Sean angry and sweating. He looked around the soldiers for any signs of conciousness. One of them groaned and he grabbed him by the front of his lapels, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall.

"I've been having a pretty bad day," Sean said.

The soldier looked at him warily. Sean knew that the opening line was pretty good. Alex had coached him in intimidation. He always had to read off a script. His skills had served him well in Interpol, and he hoped that they would work for the X-men again.

"I have a few questions," Sean said, "And I want you to answer them."

The soldier snorted. The sound was enough like laughter for Sean to jerk his head towards the rest of his team and the Brotherhood.

"Now, I'm a very calm man," Sean said, "I pride myself on being peaceful. But I want you to look at everyone around me. They're missing their friends, and they're pissed. I can only control them so much when they're like this."

He tilted his head towards the Brotherhood members. He could see that they were glaring at the soldier.

"The three in the back there don't even come from my school of teaching, the one that counsels patience and defensive skills," he said, "They lost two of their members. I highly recommend that you don't mess with them. I really think that they would kill you as soon as look at you."

Sean knew that he was only a halfway decent liar. It was why he had made an effort to mix as much truth into the threat as possible. He really didn't know how much longer he could lead the Brotherhood members. They weren't the older operatives, the ones who kept their cards close to their chest and were willing to compromise. Sean knew that he was only holding onto their cooperation by a thread.

For once in his life, he missed Magneto.

"So, where did Sinister take all of our teammates?" he said.

The soldier swallowed.

"There's...there's a lab that he had us set up," he said.

"Good," Sean said, "Any details?"

"Yeah," the soldier said, still staring at the Brotherhood members, "It's um, it's, uh, it's-"

"That's it, he doesn't know," Lance said, stepping forward.

"It's down the hall!" the soldier shrieked, "Down the hall and to the right!"

Sean nodded, feeling satisfied despite himself.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said.

He hit the soldier's head against the wall, knocking him unconcious. Sean flung him to the floor. He was about to move on when he saw Lance step forward.

"What are you doing?" Sean asked.

"Taking out some trash," he said.

Sean grabbed his arm.

"No, you're not," he said.

"Excuse me?" Lance asked.

Sean saw Senyaka and Toad tense. Ororo and Clarice stood behind him.

"We're not killing them," Sean said.

"They're just going to come after us again!" Lance snapped.

"Not for a long time," Sean said.

Lance snorted.

"I don't have to play by your rules, X-man," he said.

"Hey, Lance," Toad said, "You might wanna calm down just a little bit-"

"You said that if we worked with them we'd be able to find Magnetrix and Boom-Boom," Lance snapped, "And we haven't! I'm running out of patience here!"

"So are we," Sean said.

He jerked Lance's arm so he could look at him.

"We're missing people too," he said, "We don't have time to waste on this."

Lance snarled before jerking his arm away. He stepped back.

"Then lead the way," he hissed.

Sean nodded and returned to point, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He really didn't know how much longer he could control them.

* * *

Moira worked at the keypad for the Brotherhood girl. She could hear Scott and Warren shifting uncomfortably behind her. It was obvious that they were both embarrassed, and Scott at least looked a little ashamed.

Good. Moira had assumed that, if anything, the two would be working out a way to get out of their prison when she found them. Instead they were bickering about their positions on the team. Moira had snapped at them but, really, she felt more like slapping them both.

Now was not the time to have their personal feelings rule them. Moira couldn't claim that she was completely detached from what was going on. Her husband and students were fighting a man that she considered to be even more dangerous than Magneto. People were dying of some strange virus upstairs. She was scared for them all, scared for herself, and she knew that it was already affecting her judgement.

However, it hadn't affected her judgement to the point that she was yelling and screaming at people that she was supposed to be working with. Her thoughts went to her husband, to a relationship that, until recently, had been crumbling. It had only been a few hours ago that she realized that Charles did want to make things right between them.

She'd felt it when he touched her mind, the sensation like a tender caress. They had a long road ahead of them, but just knowing that he wanted to make things right went a long way. She had felt like crying when she felt how much care he poured into his thoughts. Moira wouldn't have to leave.

Though she had felt all of those things for hours, she had still stayed focused. She'd have to live before she could see Charles again. That was the immediate problem, and she had focused on that. Living.

Warren and Scott hadn't done that. Moira had always known that Scott had a temper bubbling beneath his calm exterior: he was Alex's brother after all. He'd done his best to repress it, and she had thought that he would continue to fight it. She shook her head once as she finished with the code on the keypad. Grabbing the door handle Moira yanked the door open.

The Brotherhood girl immediately shrank away from her, her eyes wide. Moira hadn't been able to get a good look at her earlier, but she supposed that she was about eighteen. She looked younger in that instant though, like one of her own students instead of a member of Magneto's cadre.

It was one of the reasons that Moira hated the Brotherhood so much: its members could easily be the people that she taught and mentored. It was only a few tweaked circumstances that had resulted in them traveling a path towards destruction.

"Hey, it's okay," Moira said, reaching out a hand to help her up, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl's face switched from scared to guarded, although Moira could see her nerves fighting for dominance. She got up, ignoring Moira's hand and brushing past her.

"You're the Professor's wife, right?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Her words were abrupt, but Moira shouldn't be surprised. The only worth that the Brotherhood had ever really assigned her was as the wife of one mutant and, later, the mother of another.

"Yes," Moira said.

"kay then," the girl said.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, looking up defiantly.

"I'm Boom-Boom," she said.

Moira resisted the urge to rub her temples.

"I'm guessing that the name is a good indicator of what you can do?" Moira asked.

"Yep," she said, "I don't go in for delicate work unless I'm up close though. It's why I couldn't get out."

Her words seemed halting. Moira wondered if the real reason that she hadn't been able to get out was because she had frozen. There was no real shame in that, especially because Moira assumed that she was new, but she could understand why she didn't want anyone to know.

"Alright, and you've already met Cyclops and Archangel," Moira said.

"Yeah," Boom-Boom said, "You've got some weird powers there Angel-boy."

Moira frowned as Warren winced.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," he said.

Moira looked questioningly at Scott, who shrugged.

"We'll talk about it some more later," he said, "Right now we need out of here."

At least he was finally keeping his focus on what was important.

"I think Sinister left through that door," Moira said, pointing to the western exit, "I think that that's the fastest way out of here, but it also means that we're going to run into a lot of soldiers if we go that way."

"I'd like the other door," Boom-Boom said.

"We don't know what's behind it," Scott said.

"Well, at least we know it's not Sinister," she said.

"He'll be after us when he finds out we're missing though," Scott said, "We're going to run into him again. The only question is whether or not we run into him with the rest of our teammates."

"Either way, we have to figure things out fast," Moira said.

Scott nodded, looking over the different exits.

"Okay, western exit," Scott said.

"Wow, who died and made you king?" Boom-Boom snapped.

Moira saw Warren smirk. She glared at him and the smirk disappeared.

"It's the only door that we know leads somewhere," Scott said, "The other door could lead to the incinerator for all we know. He could have booby-trapped every inch of it. We don't know."

Boom-Boom stuffed her hands in her pockets.

"Fine," she said, "But I am not dying with a bunch of X-men sissies."

Scott shook his head and headed for the western exit.

"We don't have any plans on dying either," Scott said.

"I don't think anyone does," Moira said.


	27. Chapter 27

September 4, 1974

Alex put out a hand, stopping Lorna before she could move forwards. He put his finger to his lips and she immediately shrank back. Alex moved back with her as the sound of feet filled the tunnel. They moved behind a rock column and Lorna peered down, seeing the four soldiers moving forwards beneath them.

Behind them she could just make out Sinister. He was fiddling with his coat cuffs, looking both irritated and excited. Lorna looked over at Alex, whose face was set.

"Looks like we're agreed then," Lorna said, her voice quiet.

"As long as you want to go after him," Alex said, keeping his own voice low.

She nodded.

"What do you think we should do?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Are you looking for my leadership Trixie?" he asked, amused.

Lorna rolled her eyes.

"Don't be stupid. You just know more about fighting him than I do," Lorna said.

"I don't know much," Alex said, "Remember, Beast was the one who ripped him apart."

He moved to drum his fingers against the rock column, but he stopped at the last moment. She couldn't help but smile: he was trying to keep his sound down.

"He won't want to harm me, at least I don't think he will. Something about my bloodline. He'll probably be more open to attack from me if he's trying to avoid causing damage," Alex said, "Which means that you should probably go for the soldiers. Is that alright?"

Lorna paused. A few months ago she would have argued. However, she did trust Alex's judgment. She knew now that he wasn't in it for personal glory, and she shouldn't be either. While they both had different ideas about getting there, both of them were in the battle for the good of their species.

She was starting to wonder if that was truly what the Brotherhood was in it for, or at least if their methods were correct. They could have good intentions, but the fact was she was starting to doubt if they had the right ideas. As usual Lorna would have to wait to examine her feelings on the subject.

"Sounds good," Lorna said.

Alex tilted his head, smiling.

"You know, I really didn't expect you to say that," he said.

"I'm not dumb you know," Lorna said, "As long as you beat out where Boom-Boom is then I'm fine."

Alex put his hand over his mouth, stifling laughter.

"What?" Lorna said, irritated, "It's not funny when that asshole has one of my teammates."

Alex sobered.

"Of course not," he said, "But…that's her name? Boom-Boom?"

Lorna scratched the back of her neck.

"Yeah," she said.

"Did she pick that?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lorna sighed.

Alex stifled more laughter. Lorna tried to be serious, but she couldn't help the smile spreading on her face.

"Let's hope she grows out of it," Lorna said.

"Yeah, let's," Alex said.

He looked down. The group of soldiers and Sinister were almost directly beneath them. He turned to her.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Lorna said.

Lorna moved forward and pulled out her knives. She paused for one moment before jumping off the upper shelf of the rock. Lorna flung her knives out, feeling their progress through the metal in them. One struck a soldier in the throat, the other in his chest. She summoned them back before sending the other two out as she landed.

The remaining soldiers had begun firing, but Lorna ducked and weaved. She saw that Alex had jumped down, blocking Sinister's path. He fired a blast at him but Sinister dodged it, looking more amused than scared at what was happening. Lorna longed to wipe the smile off his face, but there were still two more soldiers.

Lorna cartwheeled and kicked one of them in the face before jumping onto her feet and sending one of her knives after the last solider. She sensed it hit home and summoned it back to her hand, slotting it into place in her vest with the fourth one. The other two returned to her hands as she rushed to join Alex.

Sinister was still dodging, not attacking. He laughed and another group of soldiers came around the corner. Lorna swore and sent her knives out. They began firing. Lorna dodged, feeling for any metal in their guns. She hadn't expected there to be any, but it was still annoying and made things harder.

She looked over at Alex. He jerked his head towards the soldiers and sent out another blast at Sinister. He brought his other hand around and fired a blast at the soldiers, but the message was clear. He could only give her minimal back up as long as he was fighting Sinister. That was fine. Lorna didn't need help.

Lorna ran up to the soldiers and began sending her knives out. In the distance she could hear Sinister talking, his voice grating on her ears.

"Working with Magneto's daughter yet again?" he asked, "You'd best be careful. You wouldn't want this to become a habit."

"Shut the hell up!" Alex snapped.

Lorna reached out and punched a soldier, feeling his nose break. Another grabbed her arm and she slashed at him with her knife.

"Oh, are we in a forgiving mood at the moment?" Sinister asked, "I'm surprised."

The soldier recoiled. Another soldier grabbed her around the waist and slammed her into the wall. She felt dizzy, but she kicked off from it and sent the soldier holding her into other soldiers. She felt him stumble. Lorna turned around and jammed her knife into his collar bone. He screamed and Lorna threw her knife at another soldier.

"You know, Black Tom was an idiot," Sinister said, "But he did love to talk."

Lorna could hear blasts, showing that, in the very least, Alex was still trying to shut him up.

"And he told me of a rather interesting incident. How many scars did it leave?"

Lorna stabbed the last soldier in the rib cage. Her knife stuck for a moment, but with enough effort she pulled it out. Lorna kept it in her hand as she wiped sweat off her forehead. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment. In the distance she could see Alex with Sinister. She stepped over the fallen soldiers and hurried to help him.

"How long did they keep you?" Sinister asked, "How long did they cut away at you, trying to find what your precious Professor had blocked? How long did you refuse to tell them?"

"Shut up!" Alex screamed.

Lorna saw a larger blast leave his hands. It smashed into the rock wall, sending pieces flying everywhere. She felt something chilling her, but she kept moving on. Sinister saw her coming and laughed, his hands stuffed in his pockets. At the same time, his expression was curious. She hated that.

"And now you're working with their favorite daughter," he said, "What does that say about you?"

Lorna felt pain stab into her chest, causing her to stumble. The words tumbled around in her head, but she took a deep breath and threw her knives. Sinister moved out of their way just as Alex sent another blast out. She summoned them back, feeling weak. From somewhere further off soldiers began firing at them.

They moved in front of Sinister, who took off. Alex sent a blast at the soldiers and Lorna began kicking and punching, desperate to get Sinister's words out of her head. She wanted to hurt him, to get him to take back what she had said, but when the soldiers were down and she looked around, he was gone.

She looked at Alex who stood amidst a pile of soldiers, breathing heavily. Lorna swallowed and slotted her knives back into her vest.

"What was he talking about?" Lorna asked.

"Not important," Alex said.

"What was he talking about?" Lorna screamed.

Alex looked away, his expression guarded. Lorna took a deep breath.

"I need to know," she said.

Alex took a deep breath, his eyes still riveted on the floor.

"We were on a mission once. My brother was in charge," Alex said, "It was supposed to be simple. We were just finding out some information about some politicians. I didn't…we didn't know that the Brotherhood was interested in what we had. We didn't know it was important."

Lorna felt her veins fill with ice water.

"I got separated and captured. They…the Professor puts these blocks in so other people can't get into our mind," Alex said, "It's saved my skin more than once."

Lorna closed her eyes, bracing herself from what was coming next.

"So Emma couldn't get at it," Alex said, his voice bitter, "And then…well, you know how stubborn I am. I wasn't going to tell them anything they wanted."

"They didn't torture you," Lorna said.

Alex looked up at her, his face hard. As soon as his eyes made contact with hers the hardness melted. Lorna wondered just what he had seen on her face that had made him change what he was about to say. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to hear what she knew he was going to tell her.

"They're not like that," she said.

Alex didn't say anything. He unzipped his uniforn down to the middle of his chest and pulled it to the side. Lorna saw the thin white scars that decorated his chest, stretching around his collarbone. Lorna remembered seeing them only a few hours earlier, wondering at how precise they were. She looked at the thin white scars and a new horror rushed to her mind, one that she desperately tried to force down.

"How long?" she asked.

Alex sighed.

"Three days," he said, "After that I saw an opening and got out. Made it back to Westchester."

He began to zip his uniform back up but Lorna walked forward and put her hand on his chest, stopping him. He stared at her as she touched the white scar on his collarbone. It was thicker than the others.

Lorna knew that the wounds would have hurt long after they were first inflicted. Even after that Alex had refused to tell them anything, his stubborn heroism keeping him from betraying anything. She could only admire that kind of strength.

At the same time, those terrible wounds had been inflicted by her family. More than that, she had the feeling that they had been inflicted by one person in particular.

"How long ago?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Three years," Alex said.

She continued to stare at the scar.

"You wouldn't tell me earlier," Lorna said, "Why?"

She looked up at his eyes.

"You must have known that I didn't know," she said.

"I knew," Alex said.

He looked uncomfortable, and she could see anger there, but it wasn't directed at her. It surprised her.

"No one knows," he said, "Just me, them, and the Professor. I wanted it to stay that way."

"Why?" Lorna asked.

He glared at her.

"It took my brother a year to get over letting me get captured," Alex snapped, "If he knew this happened…"

Lorna swallowed.

"I understand," she said, "You kept it inside to protect him."

She took her hand away.

"It was Azazel, wasn't it?" she asked.

He nodded slightly. Lorna swallowed, confirming her worst fears. The man who had trained her, taught her cards, and laughed with her had been torturing people while he preached a message of honor. Lorna could feel the tears and the shame welling up inside her, could see that one of her hands were trembling.

"My father didn't know," Lorna said.

It was the last thing that she could hold onto. Her father was the best man that she knew, a man who, although she knew she didn't agree with as much as she did recently, would never advocate this. He was the one who had picked her from the ashes of her last life and carried her into the light. Her father was the one person that she could depend on no matter what. No matter what anyone said, he was the hero, just in a different way.

However, when she looked into Alex's eyes, she knew the answer. Lorna sucked in a deep breath, although it felt like it didn't reach her lungs. Her legs were trembling and she could feel the tears stopping. The knowledge she had been given left her beyond crying, in a place that she didn't know how to describe.

"How can you even stand to be around me?" Lorna said.

Her words were thick and choked.

"Lorna…" Alex said.

She looked up at Alex. He actually looked sorry for her.

"You're not like them," he said.

Lorna took a shuddering breath, deciding to ignore that he had called her by her real name. She stepped away from him.

"Let's get moving," she said, "We have people we need to save."

Alex looked at her uncertainly, but he nodded. She was grateful. There was too much going on inside her head to talk or even think about. However, she began to wonder if Alex was right: maybe she wasn't like her family. Lorna didn't know what to make of that.


	28. Chapter 28

September 4, 1974

_Sean, where are you? _

Sean laughed. The rest of the group turned to him, but he tapped his temples triumphantly. Charles was back.

_I could ask you the same thing_, Sean said.

_I'm a few feet away from Sinister's lab_, Charles thought, _I'm travelling towards it now. I don't suppose that you would happen to be in its vicinity?_

Sean looked around him at the bare rock walls.

_Don't think so_, Sean thought.

_I thought not_, Charles thought.

Although Sean had a feeling what Charles was going to do, he had to at least try to dissuade him.

_You should wait for us_, Sean thought.

_I don't have time_, Charles thought.

_You do_, Sean thought as he turned the corner, _I'm sure she's fine._

_So am I_, Charles thought, _I just think that it would be a bad idea to give Sinister a chance to contradict that._

_ You know she wouldn't want-_ Sean tried.

_Sean, I'm not arguing with you. I'll be there in a few minutes,_ Charles thought, _Just keep going and try to meet me there. Understand?_

His thoughts were short and peremptory.

_Yes,_ Sean thought.

_ Good. _

Sean sighed, remembering when Hank had charged in to save Carly. He knew that Charles was going through something similar, the thought of losing his wife more than he could bear. Hank, however, was battle hardened. Charles had been in one fight, and then lost the use of his legs directly afterwards.

He'd fought with other people as a support team, his greatest weapon still his mind. No one could do anything against that force. However, Sean didn't like the idea of him on his own. He knew that if Charles used his powers too much he was likely to burn out. It was the same for all of them. They had their physical abilities to fall back on though. Charles didn't.

"Incoming!"

A hail of bullets rained down on them. Sean watched as Lance stomped his foot on the ground, sending chunks of stone down from the ceiling. It fell on the soldiers in front of them, scattering some and crushing others. Sean weaved in between the falling rock chunks and the crystals that Clarice was flinging out. He continued screaming and hitting as many of them as he could.

He grabbed one of their guns and jerked it up so it smashed into their jaw. Sean had to wonder how insensitive he had become to fighting. He remembered a time when he had been too timid to defend himself. Alex had been the one who pushed him. With him running out by himself Sean and Hank had had to follow, giving him back-up.

Hank had accepted it easier than Sean had. He'd actually done some fighting on Cuba. Sean had been the back-up. He'd gained confidence when they had started doing missions. However, he knew that the detached ease he now had come from his years in Interpol, mourning his wife and daughter. He hadn't seen much point in living.

Now he knew that daughter existed, safe and sound at Westchester. Nothing was going to stop him from getting back to her. He continued kicking and clawing his way through the soldiers, screaming whenever he could. Sean always had to check to make sure that none of his teammates were in the path of his scream.

"Banshee!" Ororo called.

Sean turned around. Ororo pointed up. Sean could see Sinister running alongside the top of the tunnels, digging into his pocket.

"Everyone, up there!" Sean yelled.

Sinister turned. Lance stomped his foot again, causing the rock pathway that Sinister was running on to begin to crumble. Sinister leapt to the side of the wall, clinging to the handholds there. Sean punched the closest soldier and launched himself upwards. He threw his head back and screamed.

Sinister dropped to the remnants of the pathway, covering his ears. Sean climbed up onto the rock pathway.

"Now that we have your attention," he said, "I'd like a little word about where the hell my friends are."

"Well, I certainly don't have them on me," Sinister said.

He reached for something and Sean screamed again. The mask he was wearing rattled around his ears, but he knew his voice was getting out, just like it had all the other times. Sinister covered his ears again and Sean moved forward. He picked him up. He was surprisingly light, which made it easier for Sean to lift him into the air.

"Where are they?" Sean asked.

Sinister smiled and circled his hand around Sean's wrist. Before Sean could react he felt his wrist snap. Sean recoiled and dropped to the ground, his hand looking entirely wrong. Sinister kicked him in the chest, sending him backwards. Sean managed to get to his feet and scream, forcing Sinister back.

This time the scream wasn't quite so forced. His hand hurt like hell, although he could see that it was a clean break. He'd have to find something to splint it with, but he had to concentrate on keeping it from getting damaged further. Sean could only be grateful that it had been his left wrist that had been broken instead of his right.

"You don't seem to understand," Sinister said, "I don't have time for you."

"Make time," Sean snapped.

He gestured upwards with his unbroken wrist.

"What did you do upstairs?" Sean asked.

"I conducted a little experiment," he said, irritated, "It's almost over, and I wanted to be there to see it. But it appears I'm not going to get that chance."

Sean gritted his teeth.

"Do you have any idea how many people are up there?" he asked.

"Five hundred," Sinister said, smiling, "A little on the small size, but not bad."

"You're killing them all!" Sean said.

Sinister sighed.

"None of you seem to understand what I'm trying to do," he said, "So perhaps I can explain something to someone who, despite having fascinating genes, has a very dull mind."

* * *

One of the students sat up. Jean hurried over to them. She could see that they were rubbing their eyes, looking dazed and confused.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He looked at her, trying to focus. Jean could see that the gray veins that webbed around his eyes had disappeared. She stared at him as he blinked again, still struggling to focus.

"Feel a little sick," he said, "Kinda nauseous…"

Jean moved before he threw up. She had expected it to be black like the material that they had all coughed up, but instead it was normal, as though he were just throwing up his lunch. Jean patted him on the back as he choked out the last few dregs and sat up. He winced at her, his eyes still a little unfocused.

A few other students were starting to get up. Jean could see the chaperones looking around in bewilderment. Jean got to her feet, watching as the gray veins disappeared. She felt her hands go to her sides as, one by one, the students began throwing up or leaning on the wall for support.

One of the chaperones looked over at her. Once they realized that she had medical experience they had all deferred to her. Jean had thought that her calm manner had helped. Many of them were worried, searching for someone who knew what to do. She could see that they were hoping she understood the latest development.

"What's going on?" the chaperone asked.

Jean took a deep breath.

"I have no idea," she said.

* * *

"The virus isn't meant to kill anyone," Sinister said, "It has an enzyme compound that stops it from completely dominating its host. It's going to take all subjects right to the brink, but it's not going to push them over."

Sinister shook his head, his voice patronizing. Sean stared.

"I simply needed to observe the symptoms before I tested the virus's final stages," Sinister said, "I'll need a test subject, but I think that I have one downstairs…"

Sean screamed. Sinister tumbled backwards, hitting the wall. He looked up at Sean, surprised.

"So they're not going to die. Good," Sean said, gritting his teeth, "It doesn't stop the fact that you're a sick bastard who's torturing mutants for the hell of it."

"Torture?" Sinister said, his nostrils flaring, "Torture? Have you no concept of the scientific process?"

"Not of yours, no," Sean said.

"So narrow minded," Sinister hissed.

He moved forwards. A green blur moved past Sean as Magnetrix jumped down and tackled Sinister, followed by Alex. Sinister pushed her off of him, sporting a deep cut on his cheek. Magnetrix rolled, and got to her feet, one of her knives drawn. Alex moved to block the other side of the path, red light gathering in his hands.

"Nice to see you Banshee," he said.

"Likewise Havok," Sean said.

"This bastard do that to your wrist?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," Sean said.

Alex's eyes narrowed.

"I didn't think it's possible, but I'm actually a little more pissed," Alex said.

Sinister shrugged.

"It will heal. You all always act as though it won't," he said.

"People like you always say that," Alex said, "But where's my brother? Tell me, and I might be able to hold back Magnetrix from ripping you a new one."

Alex glanced over at her. Sean followed his gaze. There was a strange rage and bloodlust in Magnetrix's eyes, one that he'd had yet to see in her and reminded him eerily of her father. He wondered what had caused it.

"For a while anyway," Alex said.

"Always the same questions-" Sinister began.

A blast of red light cut him off. They looked down and saw Scott standing below, Warren on one side and the Brotherhood girl on the other. Sean could just barely make out Moira behind them. Scott had his hand on his goggles, the other hand clenched into a fist and staring upwards.

"Well, that answers that," Magnetrix said.

She sounded excited and Sean saw a smile cross her face. She turned back to Sinister.

"You hold nothing of value to us," she said, "You'd best start considering your options."

"They've been considered," Sinister said.

He drew a vial from his pocket and tossed it onto the ground. White smoke blossomed from it, clogging the air. Sean held his breath, knowing that he couldn't scream. Not in that. His eyes watered and he could only just make out Sinister jumping down from the rock path, weaving in and out amongst the soldiers.

The smoke disappeared and Sean screamed. Sinister covered his ears and kept moving towards Scott, Warren, the Brotherhood girl, and Moira.

"Cyclops, move!" Alex yelled.

Scott touched his goggles and shot a beam out at Sinister. Sinister dodged and Scott moved out of the way, followed by Warren and Moira. The Brotherhood girl stared as Sinister approached, her eyes wide. Sean wondered why she wasn't moving, why she was just staring as what could likely be her death catapulted towards her.

"Tabby!" Lorna screamed.

She pushed past Sean and jumped off the rock path, followed by Alex. Sean knew that they weren't going to make it in time, the distance was too great. Sinister approached, digging for something in his pocket. Tabby continued to stare at him, blinking as lights danced around her fingertips, apparently trying to mount some sort of defense. Once more, Sean knew she wasn't going to be in time.

Suddenly Moira moved and shoved Tabby out of the way. Sinister reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned and he brought his fist around, slamming it into her face. Sean jumped off the rock path, scrambling down towards them. He knew it was useless, but it didn't matter.

Sinister took another vial out of his pocket, crushing it on the ground. More of the thick smoke rose from it and the soldiers began firing again. Sean stopped and screamed at them, watching anxiously as the smoke cleared. When it did, his heart sank. Moira and Sinister were gone.

It appeared Charles had been right. Sinister shouldn't have been giving a chance to contradict things.


	29. Chapter 29

September 4, 1974

A group of soldiers moved into Lorna's path. She sensed metal on their belts and flung her hands out. They crashed into opposite walls. Alex was behind her, fighting another group of soldiers. She could see that he was making fast work of them though, and hurried over to Tabby.

Tabby was on the ground, looking around her with shock.

"Are you okay?" Lorna asked, helping her to her feet.

Tabby nodded, her eyes turning to where Sinister had dragged Moira. She took deep breaths and Lorna cursed herself. She should have trained Tabby better, should have taught her to deal with the stress of battle. She should have told her father that they weren't ready, but she had thought that it would just be a reconnaissance mission. She hadn't counted on any actual fighting. Tabby was still young, unused to the type of life that she had picked.

Lorna wondered if she'd known what she was getting herself into.

"Why the hell didn't you move?" Archangel yelled.

Tabby shrank back. Lorna whirled around, pointing her finger at him.

"When I want your input, I'll ask for it," she snapped.

"As much as it pains me, I have to agree with feathers over here," Lance said.

Lorna snarled. Everything she'd heard in the past hour was pounding in her head, her feelings confused. She was not dealing with this on top of everything else.

"You shut up," Lorna said.

"What?" Lance said, "He's right."

Lorna clenched her fists.

"What Boom-Boom did and didn't do isn't your concern as long as she's safe right now," Lorna said, "That's the important thing."

"But Moira isn't!" Cyclops snapped.

Lorna looked over at him. She could see so much of Alex in him, but he still lacked the curious mixture of solidity, responsibility, and determination that Alex carried with him like a shield. No wonder Alex had hidden his torture from him. He wouldn't have been able to deal with it. He wasn't as strong as his brother.

"And I'm sorry about that," Lorna said, "And we're going to work on that, trust me. But I have to look to my team first."

"You're going to work on that?" Cyclops asked, his voice disbelieving.

"Yes," Lorna said.

A strange sense of calm came over her. She rolled her shoulders back and straightened.

"It was a mistake that she was taken, and it was bad," Lorna said, "But we pay for our mistakes. We make up for them."

As the words left her lips her jumbled feelings smoothed out a little and the pounding in her head lessened.

"Why? She's just a human," Lance said.

Lorna glared at him. She felt a strange, burning pressure behind her eyes and she saw a slight green film come over them. Lance took a step back.

"It doesn't matter," Lorna said.

She saw Cyclops and Warren stare at her, saw Tabby's wide eyes and Lance's shock.

"We're going down there," Lorna said.

She looked away from them and saw Alex run towards them. He looked at her strangely. Lorna wondered how much he had heard. The last group of soldiers took aim, preparing to fire. Almost absently Alex sent a bolt of light behind him, sending them to the ground.

Banshee and the rest of the X-men caught up, as well as Toad and Senyaka. Toad waved enthusiastically.

"Hey, Magnetrix, you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

She pointed down the tunnel.

"But our target went this way."

* * *

Moira could feel Sinister's clammy hand on her arm as she came to. He was pulling her along, her feet barely touching the floor. He was half carrying her, her hand slumped behind her back. She tried to shove his hand off, but she felt his grip tighten. She winced as the pressure bared down on her bone.

"I could break it if you like," Sinister suggested.

She glared at him.

"No?" he said, "Then stop struggling!"

He pulled her further along. Her mind whirred away, trying to figure out what to do. She thought about what she had seen in the cavern. The X-men had been there, and it appeared that Alex and Magnetrix had found their groups. It was good, but Moira couldn't help but feel her heart sink. Charles hadn't been there.

She hoped that he had simply fallen a little behind. She tried not to think about the fact that he was alone any more than necessary. He was strong, but his mind wasn't near hers. They were so close, both somewhere in the building. Moira hoped that he would find her soon or she would find him. How could they miss each other now?

They had missed each other for so long, but now it looked like they had finally found each other. Moira wanted to see him, to tell him that everything would be alright, that she would stay if he wanted her to, that she had never wanted to leave in the first place.

Now the man who was dragging her along the tunnels was going to get in the way of that. It served to make Moira angry, to fill her with frustration. She couldn't get his grip off, couldn't get him to let go, which meant that she would have to find some other method.

Moira looked around, searching for something she could use. The rock tunnels were roughly hewn, but she couldn't see any rocks that she could grab. Moira didn't think that she had the strength necessary to slam him against the wall either. Sinister caught her looking and laughed.

"Don't try anything stupid. As I've already told you, I'm quite aware of your background," he said, "Jumping in to save the Brotherhood girl was rather foolish, although I'll admit that I should have expected that."

He smiled.

"Now, I've already lost most of my data today and all of my promising test subjects," he said, "You are, I'm afraid, a rather poor consolation prize."

"I aim to irritate," she said.

Sinister shook his head.

"You have no idea what I could do to you if you don't cooperate," he said, "I have years of experience of breaking people."

"I thought you said you were a scientist," she said.

"Yes," he said, "Which means that I collect data by any means possible. Now be a good little hostage, shut up, and let me get to work. Do you understand?"

Moira narrowed her eyes.

"You know you're in for a world of pain when the X-men find you," she said.

"Oh, I know,"he said, "But, really, what is pain? Just a flaring of nerves, irrelevant data. And I thought I told you to be quiet."

Moira pursed her lips. Although she wanted to say something, she knew enough by that point in her career not to aggravate the madman who was already a little frantic. Scott had told her a little of why they had been locked away. She needed to be out in the open if she had any chance of a breakout whatsoever.

She watched in silence as he shoved open a door and pushed her through. She clipped her chin on a table and looked up. She was back in his lab. Moira gripped the edge of the table in frustration before turning around.

Sinister had put on his mask and gloves. She clenched her hands into her fists, letting them hang by her side. She wasn't going to be cowed.

"I'm not afraid of you you know," Moira said.

"Yes, you are. Everyone is. Everyone who isn't is stupid, and I don't think you're stupid for all of your other unattractive qualities," Sinister said, "But I do admire that you have the courage to lie about it."

He cocked his head.

"Or are you afraid of me and you just don't want to be? Or are you afraid of something else, something that takes priority to you?" he asked.

Moira tilted her chin up, her heart pounding. Sinister waved a hand.

"Such metaphysical questions are best left to others," he said, "I try to stay firmly rooted in the physical realm. It's easier that way."

"I'll bet," Moira said.

He shook his head.

"Of course you would say that," he said, "The X-men spend so much time in the metaphysical realm it's boggling. Not to mention their strength and endurance, but they're mutants. That makes sense."

Sinister frowned.

"I've long wondered how a mere human manages to keep up with all of that," he said.

He looked at her, obviously waiting for an answer. Moira thought of the X-men, thought of the few soldiers who were left. They would be coming for her. She could stall.

"I like to think that I have hidden talents," she said.

"Please, I need some more data than that," he said.

She crossed her arms.

"You said you were aware of my background," she said.

"Yes, which is why I know that you're trying to stall," Sinister said, "It won't do you much good, but I do want a good answer, or at least something confirmed."

Sinister gestured around him, taking a step towards her. Moira moved behind the table. She wanted something between herself and Sinister, her mind working rapidly.

"Now then," he said, "You're strong. I believe you are, and you're perhaps a decent sample of what a human can do, but I think that there's something else that's helped. I suppose some part of it is teacherly, maternal affection for the students who have grown up into soldiers."

He kept advancing and Moira kept moving back, careful not to back herself into a wall.

"Some of it is obviously your love for your son," Sinister said, "Maternal affection yet again. I can't quite quantify that, but I'll find a way."

Moira saw a table with a few instruments on it. She put her hands to her side, continuing to back up.

"I think that much of it is your devotion to the foolish telepath who leads them," Sinister said, "Love. A silly, sidenote in the universe."

He stopped just as Moira felt something that felt like a glass beaker. There wasn't anything inside of it, which was just as well. Moira didn't want to go around throwing chemicals with no idea of what they were.

"But powerful all the same," Sinister said, "I'll grant you that."

Moira threw the beaker at his face. The glass shattered and Moira bolted for the door. She flung it open just as she felt Sinister grab her arm. Moira threw her head back. She felt something cut her, perhaps some of the glass that had gotten imbedded in his face, and he howled.

She got out of his grasp and made it to the rock tunnel. A hand grabbed her foot and she fell to the floor, scraping her hands and knees. Sinister grabbed her around the throat and dragged her back into the lab, slamming her into the wall.

Moira kicked and struggled, but his grip was iron. She looked at his face: there were glass pieces embedded just above his mask. She punched upwards, driving them deeper into his skin, and he increased the pressure of his grip, lifting her away from the wall and into the air.

"Love is powerful, just like determination," Sinister hissed, "But trust me: my soldiers will keep the X-men busy for quite some time. No one is coming for you."

"You're wrong."

Moira looked over, her mind crying out at the sound of the familiar voice. Charles was in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Sinister.

"I'll always come for her."


	30. Chapter 30

September 4, 1974

"This is the way we came," Scott said, "They should be at the end of the tunnel here, if he's taken her to his lab."

The smoke had cleared and the group peered down the tunnel. Alex had made sure that the soldiers were restrained: now it was just a matter of making sure that it was alright to proceed. Sean had already sent a scream down it, making sure that there weren't any traps. So far it was clear.

"Would he just go and stay there though?" Lorna asked.

Alex sighed and nodded.

"He would if he thought that he could get better data that way," he said, "He's all about data. I think that gives him a bizarre disconnect from reality."

"Okay," Sean said.

He looked over at Alex, who nodded.

"We're going in," Sean said, "Keep close, and keep those masks on. He might not have infected the kids upstairs to kill them, but that doesn't make us safe."

"Let's get moving," Alex said.

Lorna gave a sharp nod and gestured to the rest of her group. Alex watched her as they moved down the tunnel. There was something different about her. He remembered seeing her shouting at Lance, her body rigid and her eyes glowing green. He'd only seen her eyes glow once before when she was facing down Black Tom. Alex wondered if she knew that she did that when she was angry.

He'd thought that she would reject the information about his capture and torture. He had great faith in her brains and her abilities, but he also knew that she was fiercely loyal to her family. Alex could understand that, even if that family consisted of terrorirsts. He'd thought that he would have to fight with her to get her to believe, although he hadn't even wanted to tell her in the first place. No one was suppsoed to know.

That hadn't happened though. She hadn't even really called him a liar. Lorna had just sought for something to alleviate the blow, and believed him when it was shot down. It meant that she valued his word as much as he valued hers. It couldn't be a good thing, the two of them trusting each other as much as they did. There was another element to it though, one that was just on the brink of his consciousness.

He certainly valued the fact that she had thrown herself into helping them. Sinister was a tricky opponent and they needed as much back-up as they could get. It didn't matter that that back-up consisted of Brotherhood members. No one liked Sinister so, once again, they had a common enemy.

There were other problems though, ones he wasn't sure could be solved by the increased manpower. They didn't know where Charles was, and he would have been a great asset. Sean had hurriedly explained that he had said he was going to go into Sinister's lab if he could find it. It meant that they had a chance of running into him before they found Sinister, but they hadn't been very lucky lately.

At the same time Sinister held Moira. Alex knew that she was going to try to escape, she had been the one to teach him how to get out of handcuffs after all, but with only one hostage Sinister would be paying close attention to her. She didn't have much of a chance. Charles had been acting slightly erratic since she had been taken, and Alex knew that this wasn't going to help things if he found Sinister and Moira before they did.

Sinister had brought an army with him. Alex was confident that they had taken care of most of it, otherwise they would have encountered some in the tunnels. He couldn't be sure though. There was too much that he couldn't be sure about, most of it just because it was Sinister, and Sinister was far too unpredictable. For someone who put such stock in logic and science he certainly didn't seem to make any sense.

The fact that he even had soldiers working for him left Alex at a loss. His army at the Savage Land hadn't been anywhere as well trained or numerous as the one that he currently had. Had the mercenary market just improved in recent years?

Sinister had already successfully set up elaborate traps in most of the building. It had successfully sliced up their party and separated them from each other. They had been lost and confused, and the effects of his traps were still hindering them in some form or another. It was likely that he was saving his best trap for last.

* * *

"Professor Xavier," Sinister said, his voice mild, "What a surprise."

Charles gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. Moira's forehead was bleeding and her feet weren't quite touching the ground. From the cuts and broken glass embedded in Sinister's face he knew that she had put up quite a fight. Charles hadn't expected any less of her.

He wanted to go into her mind to soothe her, but he needed to keep his attention on Sinister.

"Let her go," he said.

"Or what?" Sinister asked.

One of his hands locked around Moira's neck, his spare hand reaching into his pocket. Charles reached for Sinister's mind, but to his surprise he found it slippery, like a muddy mountain where he couldn't quite find purchase.

"Oh, don't worry," Sinister laughed, "I've taken precautions against your meddling. That lovely material Magneto's helmet is made out of? I have a few plates of it in my head. I thought it might come in handy. I'd have to say that it's proven to be one of my more useful augmentations."

He pulled out a syringe from his pocket, filled with a thick, black material.

"This, Professor, is the Legacy virus in its purest form," he said, "I didn't put in any cancellations for this, nothing to stop it before it reaches its final stage. I believe that it would be quite fast acting."

"I don't care about your science projects Sinister," Charles said.

His words were short and sharp. He kept looking at Moira, his mind trying to bludgeon itself against Sinister's defenses. He could see a few cracks in it, but nothing he could fully exploit. Not yet.

"I think you should care," Sinister said.

He tilted it so that the needle was placed just above Moira's collarbone. Moira jerked her head, but he turned her face so that it was held in place. Charles could feel his anger building behind his eyes, pushing him to batter Sinister's defenses even harder.

"Since I'm now holding it to your wife's neck," Sinister said.

He smiled.

"Originally I designed the virus for mutants," he said, "But I think, in a direct form, it'll be able to affect humans too. I'm not sure."

His eyes lit up.

"Would you care to find out Professor?" he asked.

"Let her go," Charles said.

Sinister moved back, dragging Moira with him. Moira kept her eyes glued on Charles. She was trusting him to have a way out of their predicament. He wished he could give her some sort of sign, some reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

"I'm not sure that I should," Sinister said.

Charles drew himself up.

"We both know that those plates aren't seamless," Charles said, "I'm going to find a way in there soon. What I do when I get there is up to you."

"Such anger," Sinister said, "Aren't you supposed to be the patient, peaceful one?"

"Not right now," Charles said.

Sinister laughed, his expression frank. The needle hovered a centimeter above Moira's skin, wavering threateningly.

"I think that I rather like this side of you, desperate," he said, "You were very cool when we were in South America, although we only talked through the communications system. This would be our first face-to-face, wouldn't it?"

Charles didn't answer. He remembered the time, Sinister calling him out, curious as to who had invaded his labs. It wasn't an important memory though. Charles could see the cracks, see where he could apply a little pressure and widen them to get inside.

"It's very curious, all of this," Sinister said, "But it appears that, as of now, we find ourselves at an impasse. I have what you want, and I can't give it up without losing my only bargaining chip."

"Let's be reasonable," Charles said, focusing his mental energy to widen the crack, "You don't really have a bargaining chip. There is no escape for you. Even if you do make it upstairs, then you'll be stopped by the police that surround the center."

"Yes. I'm actually rather interested as to why they've chosen to ignore what's happening here, or at least not come in," Sinister said, "Very peculiar behavior indeed Professor."

"It would appear so," Charles said.

Sinister nodded, the needle still poised over Moira's collarbone. He could see that her breathing was shallow, her eyes still on him.

"I'm going to leave the room right now," Sinister said, "And then I'm going to leave the building."

"You're not. You won't make it," Charles said.

"Well, if I won't make it, then neither will your wife," Sinister said, "Do you have any ideas what to do about that?"

The crack was almost wide enough for Charles to open. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, the stress of the situation pressing down on him and the mental exertion digging into him.

"I'm asking you one last time," Charles said, "Let her go."

Sinister smirked. Charles looked back at Moira and saw that her eyes had drifted away from him. He blinked, confused, as Moira's face tightened.

"Behind you!" she screamed.

Charles looked back. A soldier was standing there, his gun in position. Charles slipped quickly into his mind, sending him to the ground. He turned back to Moira and Sinister, trying to find his foothold in Sinister's mind.

As he did he watched Sinister turn his eyes to Moira, full of anger. Moira jerked to the left and Sinister brought the needle closer to her skin. Charles watched as he pried into Sinister's mind, every second slow and strange, unable to move in time.

The needle plunged into Moira's skin just as Charles ripped into Sinister's mind. It was a jumble, but part of him fought the thoughts there as Moira slumped to the ground. Charles raced through Sinister's mind, hoping against hope for something he could use against the virus, to reverese what he knew had been done.

He found nothing. Sinister had designed the virus from the strains of Scott's DNA, but he hadn't designed a cure. He hadn't thought that it would be useful or important. Charles howled inside of Sinister's mind, ripping and tearing frantically for something he could do.

_Nothing_, Sinister's thoughts whispered, _There's nothing you can do._

Charles lashed out, screaming inside his own head, desperate to do any damage that he could. In his mind's eye he saw Sinister on the ground, writhing from the pain. He saw Moira crawling away, her face contorted in pain.

Charles abandoned Sinister's mind, pushing him into unconciousness. He didn't matter, not anymore. Exhausted he pushed himself forward, feeling frantic. There was a chance, his virus might not have worked on her. This couldn't be happening: not to Moira.

When he was close enough he pushed himself out of the chair and onto the floor. Using his arms he dragged himself towards her. He pushed himself up against a wall, pulling her into his arms, as close to him as possible.

"Please, no," Charles said.

Moira didn't answer, just took continuous, shallow breaths. He could see gray veins already webbing out from her eyes.


	31. Chapter 31

September 4, 1974

"Moira, stay with me," Charles pleaded.

Her eyes were glazed over, her lips parted. Black fluid trickled out of them. She coughed, splattering the black all over the front of his shirt.

"Moira, love, it's going to be alright," he said.

Charles touched her face. He tried to bring her head up, give her some sort of leverage for her to cough, but her head bumped his mask. Charles swore to himself. He cradled her head in his hands, sitting her up straight. When he finished he reached up for his mask, determined to get it off.

Moira's hand stopped him. It was a weak touch, but its intent was clear.

"Moira?" he asked.

"Don't…" she whispered.

Charles shook his head.

"I need to," he said.

"Contagious…" Moira murmured, "David…"

Charles gritted his teeth, wishing that he didn't understand. However, he understood only too well. She was worried that the virus was contagious, which he admitted that it might be. They didn't really know much about it.

Worse than that she was reminding him that David needed a parent. Moira had already come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to make it.

"It's going to be fine love," he said.

Moira breathed in, her body jerking in a spasm. Charles tried to hold her still, feeling the cold sweat that coated her body.

"He needs you," Moira said.

Charles squeezed his eyes shut, the tears already spilling out.

"He needs you too," Charles said, "We both do."

He opened his eyes and saw Moira looking at him, the gray veins around her eyes becoming darker. He could see that the veins were prominent in her throat as well.

"Please, please," he said.

Moira didn't respond. She coughed again, more black fluid coming from her lips. Charles held her closer. He wanted to kiss her forehead, reassure her that things would be fine, but the mask was in the way. He wished that she hadn't reminded him about the mask, the barrier between the two of them.

He looked at her. He would have to be a fool not to realize that she was dying, something happening to her body that he couldn't comprehend. Charles had never felt so helpless in his life, not when the missiles had been fired at the beach, or Erik and Raven had left, or even when Sean had run from Maeve's funeral.

Moira was dying in his arms. There was so much left unsaid between them, so much that was supposed to have been fixed, so much he should have said or done. Instead he had let himself wallow in pity, and thus given him a new reason to hate himself. He was going to lose the one person who would never leave him.

"Moira…" he whispered.

The glaze over her eyes seemed to increase. He didn't know if she could hear him or not. Charles took a deep breath. He leaned his head down until his forehead touched hers. Charles could feel a fever burning skin that had been freezing a moment before. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

* * *

"Are we almost there?" Magnetrix asked.

Scott nodded and Warren sighed. He knew that they were taking too long, and he knew that he wasn't the only one frustrated. The X-men and Magnetrix were all looking anxious. The rest of the Brotherhood didn't really seem to care. Tabby or Boom-Boom still seemed a little shell-shocked, mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment.

It was only fitting. She was the reason that they were in this mess. If she'd been able to attack or at least move when Sinister was coming at her, then Moira wouldn't have been taken. It did make Warren wonder about the Brotherhood though. He'd always seen them as vicious, not hesitant or scared.

"Has the Professor contacted you?" Magnetrix asked.

"If he had, you'd know," Alex said, "Trust me."

Magnetrix looked at him for a moment and continued running. Warren didn't feel entirely comfortable going back to Sinister's lab. He'd been more than a little scared although he hadn't understood much of what had happened in the lab. What he did know was that he'd remember his argument with Scott for a long time to come.

If things didn't go well, then it wouldn't just be a bitter argument with someone who had once been a friend. It would be his last real memory of Moira.

* * *

Moira got up. She looked around her at the ballroom, a special room rented out in a country club for what had been a very small wedding. She looked down at her gown, a simple, square-necked white dress that stopped at her shins. Moira looked around, feeling confused, her mind a jumble.

She knew that she wasn't at that club. She knew she'd been married to Charles for years. They'd had a son together. Only seconds before she had shaken with pain, fighting for every breath. Moira knew that she was in her mind somewhere, which meant that Charles was there too.

A hand came and grasped hers. She looked over and saw Charles, wearing the suit he'd worn on their wedding day. However, he was standing.

"Charles, what's-?" she began.

"Shhh," Charles said.

He pulled her closer to him and Moira complied. She could hear slight music from far away as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I wanted to have a proper first dance when we were married," he said, "You told me it wasn't important."

"It wasn't," Moira said.

"No. Not to you. You never cared about things like that."

She could hear a small, choked laugh escape his throat. He took one of her hands in his, his other hand snaking around her waist.

"Nonetheless, we can have one now."

Moira nodded slightly. The lights in the room were dimmed and soft. Outside she could see upstate New York, although it was nighttime.

"I can't do anything," Charles whispered, "I can't, Moira, love, I can't save you."

She bit her lip.

"I know," she said.

Charles held her closer.

"All I can do is numb your pain receptors and stretch out these moments in your head," he said.

Moira felt tears in her eyes. A few slipped out and fell onto Charles's chest.

"I'm so sorry," Charles said.

Moira swallowed and looked up at him. His face was full of pain and regret. She reached up and touched his face.

"There's nothing to apologize for," she said, "This wasn't your fault. Don't you dare think that it was."

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" he said, his voice low.

Moira managed a smile.

"You've said the same thing to me," she said.

Charles nodded. He looked at her, his expression full of desperation.

"I was going to change things," he said, "I was going to…Moira, I was going to make things right. I swear I was. I'm not just…I'm not just saying that-"

Moira turned her face and kissed him, his lips soft against hers. She pulled back.

"I knew that too," Moira said, "I heard it when you came. You…you're so easy to read Charles."

She managed a smile, but he didn't laugh.

"I love you," he said, "I'm sorry for not always showing it, for not doing what I was supposed to do, for all of those words that I never said when I should have-"

Moira kissed him again. This time it was shorter, and she kept her head closer to him.

"Charles, there are things that we have never said," Moira said, "But here's something for you to take with you."

She looked up at him.

"I love you," she said, "And nothing is going to change that. Even if things had…turned out bad, I would've still loved you. I would have just felt like we couldn't continue on."

Charles closed his eyes.

"I wasn't good for you," he said, "No matter what you say, you can't say that I was good for you."

"I can say that, because it's true," Moira said, "You changed my life Charles. I want you to know that before…"

Her final words got stuck in her throat. She pressed herself closer to him.

"You changed my life for the better," Moira said, "You showed me that my life could be so much more than I'd thought, that there was a world out there that needed my help. And our marriage, our marriage holds the best memories of my life."

She smiled, remembering. Moira wondered if Charles could see what she was seeing, the thousands of moments of laughter, tears, joy, and love. From the way he took a sharp breath she knew that he could. Moira was glad. He needed to see that, needed to be able to look back on their time together and remember their love.

"We have a beautiful son," Moira said, "A good life, a good school, doing so much in this world."

She grasped his hands.

"David needs you," she said.

Charles nodded, the gesture so small that she almost missed it.

"Take care of him," Moira said.

"I will," Charles said.

"And don't give up," Moira said, "Don't ever stop fighting Charles don't…don't retreat…don't run away…"

She thought of Sean, of the way he had hidden from them all. Charles couldn't do that.

"I won't," Charles said.

He let go of her hand and wrapped both of his arms around her.

"I won't," he said.

* * *

Alex ran into the room with Scott and stopped short. He saw Sinister sprawled out, alive, but with blood coming from his ears. It appeared that Charles had done a number on him. He looked further up and saw Charles and Moira. His first instinct was to call out to them, but then he took a closer look.

Moira's eyes were slightly open, her breathing only the faintest whisper. Black trickled aimlessly from her lips. Charles was bowed, his forehead touching hers. One of his hands was wrapped around one of hers tightly. Alex understood immediately, feeling as though the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Sean pushed his way to the front, his eyes widening.

"Oh my God," Sean said.

Alex swallowed, his head bowed. Next to him Scott began to understand, his whole body going rigid. He saw Lorna and the rest run into the room. Lorna stopped like he had, her hands hanging limply by her side. Boom-Boom gave a little gasp and turned her head away. The rest of the X-men filed into the room, stopping one after the other. They all knew that they were witnessing Moira's final moments.

Alex breathed in, feeling curses and screams welling up in his throat. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They weren't supposed to find this. He thought of Moira at the CIA compound, explaining which parts of the building that they weren't allowed to go into, thought of her coming back to the Institute, helping him as he tried to break a code, marrying Charles, walking into the Institute holding David.

Now it was over.

* * *

Moira slumped in Charles's arms. He knew that they didn't have much time. He could barely keep her on her feet and her breathing was becoming labored. Charles held her tighter, the idea that he was going to have to let her go soon too much to bear. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Outside Charles could see the lights begin to dim, the night blanketing the landscape of Moira's mind.

"I don't have much time left, do I?" Moira murmured.

"No," Charles whispered.

The word felt like bile in his throat. There was a slight pause as one of Moira's hands came to rest on his chest.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

Charles swallowed.

"Until the end," he promised


	32. Chapter 32

September 4, 1974

Warren had to strain his eyes to see the gentle rising and falling of Moira's chest, her breath fading. Warren watched as the Professor's grip tightened on her hand, his eyes squeezing shut even further. Most of the X-men were looking away, as were the Brotherhood. Even Lance had the decency to turn his back.

Alex and Sean hadn't turned back though. Warren knew that they had known her since they were fifteen. She'd been married to the Professor for years. He'd always seen her a fixture of the school. Moira had been the first one to greet him at Westchester, to show him to his room. She'd been a force in the background, but a powerful one.

Now she was dying. Warren could only stare. Death hadn't really seemed like an option for any of them. They had all been in dangerous situations, but they had come out alright. Sean had been mangled months ago and come out alright, jumping back into the fray. Warren had never seen Moira as fragile: she'd been the one to give the first X-men their basic training. They had built off it, but Warren had always known that she could take care of herself.

At the same time, she wasn't a combatant. She was a member of their support group. Moira wasn't supposed to be in danger, let alone be injured. Warren knew that it was a possibility, had even accepted her being in the conference center when Sinister invaded, but death was something entirely different.

It appeared that there wasn't any sort of defense against the virus that was running through her. There wasn't any cure for it, no way to heal her. Warren stared, his mind sparking and fuses burning. It was like a firework show was going off in his head as he watched Moira and the Professor.

He moved of his own accord, pushing Alex and Sean out of the way.

"Archangel," Alex said, his voice threatening.

Warren knelt by the Professor and Moira, his mind still exploding in fireworks. He waved his hands for a minute.

"Anyone have anything sharp?" he asked.

Warren received blank looks in return, except for Alex, who was furious. Boom-Boom blinked at him and turned to Magnetrix, her expression fervent.

"Give him one of your knives," she said.

Warren looked at her gratefully.

"What?" Magnetrix asked.

"Trust me," Boom-Boom pleaded.

Frowning Magnetrix drew one of her knives. She tossed it over to Warren, who caught it. He looked back at Charles and Moira as he pushed up his uniform sleeve. He was uncertain, but he needed to make sure. There was no way that he could live his life wondering what would have happened if he'd tried.

"Archangel, what the hell are you doing?" Alex demanded.

"One minute," Warren said.

He looked at Moira uncertainly. It had been so much more obvious with Boom-Boom. He'd have to take a chance with her.

"Archangel!"

Warren put his arm over Moira's face and cut open one of his veins. He winced, part of him wishing he'd chosen a smaller vein, but the blood trickled from his arm into Moira's mouth. He saw her splutter, her throat weakly swallowing. He was relieved: he'd worried that she'd be too weak to swallow.

"The hell!" Alex yelled.

He heard Alex move forward. Warren turned just in time to see Boom-Boom put her hand out and grab Alex's arm. He glared at her, but Boom-Boom stood firm.

"He knows what he's doing," she said.

Warren hoped he did.

* * *

The music was barely a whisper now. Tears streamed down Charles's cheeks as Moira's eyes closed slightly. They were still open, but he knew that they weren't going to remain that way for much longer. He could already feel the pain from her impending death begin to seep into his mind. He had promised to stay there until the end though. Charles wasn't going to break his promise for the world.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he kept them open. He was going to see her for her final moments. After everything that she had given him, he owed her this. More than that, it was all he was going to have in the years to come, years that should have been spent together, loving each other and watching their son grow up.

It was why he noticed the slight lightening of the room. Charles blinked. All around them he could see the sun start to stream in through the windows. The music grew a little stronger. Signs of life were appearing outside the windows, and the dimmed lights seemed to be turning back on.

Charles gaped. He could feel her body strengthening through their bond. He tried to figure out what was happening. It was certainly nothing that he was doing. Charles might have had the ability to keep her mind moving for a little while, but he couldn't heal her body, to stop it from being ravaged by the virus.

He briefly looked outside of Moira's mind. It hurt and he was loathe to leave her when he didn't know if everything was going to be alright, but he had to know. A peek outside showed Warren kneeling by them, a knife in one hand and his blood dripping into Moira's throat. He was shocked, but a quick look at Moira showed that she was getting better. Already there seemed to be more color in her skin.

Charles had no idea what was happening, but he wasn't about to question it. He pulled himself fully into Moira's mind. The light was getting stronger. He let out a laugh of relief. Charles could pull her back to consciousness now. She wasn't going to die. Everything was going to be alright.

"Moira, you're never going to believe this," he said.

He looked down, eager to see he eyes shining back up at him with the promise of life. However, Moira still remained slumped in his arms, her breath coming slowly. She was barely on her feet and her hands were limply on his chest. He stared, unsure of what was happening. She should be fine.

It was obvious that her body was repairing itself from whatever it was that Warren was doing, but she was still fading.

"Love," he said.

The light from the outside became stronger. Her body was healing, the virus slowly but surely being banished, but the chilling thought that her mind might be too far gone occurred to him. She had only been seconds away from death after all. She could end up comatose if they weren't careful, and he'd lose her anyway.

Charles gripped her tighter. They had come much too far for that.

"Moira, listen to me, listen to my voice," he said, "You have to concentrate. You have to stay awake."

She looked blearily up at him, her eyes unfocused. She began to slide down to the floor, but Charles gripped her waist and kept her on her feet.

"You have to fight this," he said, "Moira, you're going to live, but only if you fight. Do you understand me?"

She didn't respond. Charles could feel her mind slipping away from him.

* * *

The black veins around Moira's eyes and throat began to disappear. Her breath became stronger, but the Professor didn't look up. Warren kept his blood trickling, but he was starting to feel a little faint. He knew that he wasn't anywhere near his blood limit, but losing so at once much and seeing it all drain was making him feel queasy.

"What in the world?" Alex asked.

Warren didn't look up, but he closed his eyes. He couldn't see the blood that way.

"Sinister said my blood heals," he said, "He used it on Boom-Boom. I just…I thought that I might be able to do something."

"You're obviously doing something," Alex said, "You're obviously doing quite a bit of something."

He managed to open his eyes, looking away from the stream of blood. They were all looking at him. Warren swallowed.

"I guess," he managed.

"You guess?" Alex said.

Alex knelt beside him and reached into his utility belt. He pulled out a bandage and tied it to Warren's upper arm.

"Good thinking, but we need to be careful with this," he said.

He finished with the makeshift tourniquet and took the knife out of Warren's hand. Barely looking he tossed it back to Magnetrix, who caught it. Alex turned back to Moira, touching the small amount of her forehead that the Professor wasn't pressed against. He nodded as he withdrew his hand, his eyes excited.

"Her temperature's approaching normal," he said.

He frowned.

"She's not waking up though," he said.

Alex looked over at the Professor.

"Charles, she's going to be alright," Alex said.

The Professor didn't move.

"Charles?" Alex said.

The Professor's grip on Moira's hand tightened slightly, but he still didn't respond.

"He should be answering," Alex said.

Sean knelt by the two of them.

"Something's going on, something that we're missing," Sean said.

"What?" Warren asked.

Sean shook his head.

"I have no clue," he said.

* * *

Moira continued sliding, her eyelids fluttering. Charles grasped her arms desperately.

"Moira, I told you that things were going to be different," he said, "And I meant it. But I need you to stay concentrated. I need you to fight this, and then we can go back and we can make all of those changes. I can be better."

He could see that Moira was struggling to keep her eyes open. Charles gritted his teeth and poured more of his reserves into rejuvenating her mind. He knew it would leave him exhausted and burned out, but he had to use it. He had to be strong enough to keep her alive and well.

She was still having difficulty though. Charles felt like screaming in frustration, but he couldn't. He kept his arms wrapped around her.

"David's waiting back at Westchester," he said, "You know how distraught he was when you left for a day. Think about him. Please. You can come back now, you can fight this. We can win."

He wasn't sure though. Charles didn't know just how much control Moira had left, if she had the strength to fight what was going on. Moira was the strongest person he knew, but after everything that had happened her mind was burning out. He lent her as much strength as he could, his teeth gritted together.

"Please," he said.

Moira gripped the front of his chest, her fingers bunching the fabric.

"Moira," Charles said, "I told you I would stay with you until the end. But I don't want this to be the end. I want years and years. Moira…"

He swallowed, tears of frustration spilling from his eyes.

"Stay with me," he said.

Charles looked down at her. Moira's eyes were opening, her fingers digging into his skin as she pulled herself up.

"Charles," she whispered.

"I'm here," he said.

Her grip intensified.

"So am I," Moira said.

Charles held her to him.

"Then let's go home," he said.

He pulled her out, feeling his mind slot back into place. He was holding Moira, Warren leaning over them. Warren had withdrawn his hand, the cut still prominent on his arm. He'd begun to apply pressure to it, although Charles could tell that it would need stitches. Alex and Sean were kneeling nearby, looking intently at them. Charles barely noticed them though, his eyes fixed on Moira.

She hadn't opened her eyes. Charles ripped off his mask and held her closer.

"Moira?" he pleaded.

Moira coughed once, sitting up slightly. Her eyes opened and she smiled.

"Charles," she said.

Charles let out a choked breath. He kissed her, burying his hands in her hair. When he pulled back he kept his face close, even as he heard the X-men begin to cheer.

"I'm never letting you go," Charles said, "Never again."

Moira brought her hand up to his face.

"I'd never want you to," she said.

* * *

**_A/N:_** _Two more chapters. _


	33. Chapter 33

September 4, 1974

"We're at the city limit?" Lorna asked.

Alex nodded.

"West, right?" Lorna asked.

He nodded again. He stepped out of the Blackbird and gestured to the road ahead of them. Lorna followed the gesture. The vehicles that they had come in were safely hidden fifteen minutes from there. Lorna could see the woods around them. They day before she had thought that they looked like a perfect hiding spot.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"We won't even think about calling the police for another thirty minutes," Alex said.

Lorna laughed.

"Wouldn't that be endangering innocent lives?" she asked.

"Good point," Alex said.

Lorna looked at him. Although his uniform was completely zipped up, she could almost feel his scars boring into her. She shifted her feet.

"I'm glad about Mrs. Xavier," she said.

"Me too," Alex said, "Trust me."

"I hope Archangel didn't lose too much blood," Lorna said.

"He'll be fine," Alex said.

Lance came out of the Blackbird, followed closely by Toad, Senyaka, and Tabby. Tabby seemed quiet and withdrawn, her gaze pensive. Lorna wondered if she was going to be alright. She'd talk with her when they had a minute. Now she had a different duty to discharge.

"We going or what?" Lance asked, "Dumb plane gave me leg cramps. Plus, whole place smells like disinfectant."

Lorna rolled her eyes. She wanted to smack him for the last comment: they had been administering antibiotics to the Professor's wife from the moment they left the conference center. Alex narrowed his eyes at the comment, and Lorna cleared her throat.

"You all start without me. I need to talk to Havok," she said.

Lance frowned.

"What about?"he asked.

"Lollipops. Sinister of course," Lorna snapped, "I need to know what they plan to do with him."

"We can wait for you," Toad said.

Lorna tilted her head.

"I appreciate that, but I'll catch up," she said.

Toad gave her an uncertain look. Lorna rolled her eyes again.

"Look, bad comes to worse, they're still standing by a metal plane," she said, "They're not that dumb."

"Okay," Toad said.

He gave her one more uncertain glance before moving on, the rest of her team following him. Alex turned to her.

"Sean has some friends who are good at taking care of this sort of thing," he said, "We'll give him to them."

"Containment?" Lorna asked.

"I'm not exactly comfortable with it, but I don't like the alternative," Alex said, "Besides, it appears we can't kill him even if that was an option. Every time we do that he just pops up again in the worst places."

"I figured you'd have some sort of plan," Lorna said.

"We always do."

"We'll agree to disagree on that one," Lorna said.

"Of course," Alex said.

There was a pause.

"Are you going to try for details or something?" he asked, "Location or anything like that?"

"No," Lorna said, "You probably aren't supposed to tell me."

"I'm not."

"Then I'm right."

She could feel a lump forming in her throat.

"In that case...you might want to catch up with the rest of your team," Alex said.

Lorna didn't move. She breathed in and tried to calm herself.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Alex frowned.

"What for?" he asked.

She reached out hesitantly before pressing her hand to his chest. Alex sighed, but Lorna refused to let him speak.

"This should have never happened," she said.

"Lorna, I told you that I don't blame you," he said, "You're not like them."

Lorna forced a smile. He didn't know how much his words simultaneously healed and hurt her.

"You really do need to tell me how you figured out my name," she said.

Alex shrugged, but Lorna didn't move her hand.

"It wasn't a lot of detective work. Terry asks for you from time to time," he said.

"Of course," Lorna said.

She cleared her throat again.

"I still need to apologize."

"You didn't do anything," Alex said.

"No, but that doesn't change what happened. That doesn't change that I belong to an organization that is rather different than what I thought it was," Lorna said, "Nothing you say can change that."

She took her hand off his chest. Lorna forced herself to look him in the eye though. She owed him that.

"But I can tell you that, as long as I have any say, nothing like what happened to you will ever happen again," Lorna said, "And what happened to Black Tom won't happen again either. His case was different from yours, but the point is still the same."

Alex furrowed his brow and Lorna tilted her chin up.

"For a long time I thought that the only difference between the Brotherhood and the X-men was that you were weak," she said, "But I know now that's not true. I saw you all today. You're not weak, in any sense of the word. The only difference between our groups is that the Brotherhood doesn't have any boundaries, nothing that separates us from the people that we're fighting."

It hurt to admit how wrong she had been about the people she cared about. It hurt to know that her father condoned torture and murder while telling her that he was making the world safe. Lorna had always believed that there were lines that weren't to be crossed, and now it turned out that her family had crossed them behind her back.

"You told me once that we were responsible for the fear that humans have for mutants," Lorna said, "I'm not sure how much of that I believe, but I believe enough to tell you that things have to change."

Alex was staring at her with an unfathomable look, and she continued on. He needed to know.

"I'm going to see what I can do to change what my father is doing," Lorna said, "I know it won't be immediate, and I know it will be difficult, but I'm not going to stand by idly while these things happen. Not anymore."

Lorna clenched her hands once before letting them relax.

"I also want to thank you, because even when I was screaming at you, you didn't need to tell me about what happened. You didn't need to open yourself up to that," Lorna said, "Thank you for telling me what no one else would."

She felt tears in her eyes. Lorna knew she was saying too much, but she also knew it was too late to turn back.

"As much as it hurts to admit it," she said, "you might be the only person who's been completely honest with me in over ten years."

Her words ran out and she looked at Alex. He was still staring at her. Lorna wondered what he was going to do or say, if indeed he was going to do anything at all. She waited uncertainly, hoping that he would at least say something before she left instead of just staring.

He reached out for her shoulders suddenly, pulling himself closer. His lips covered hers and Lorna's eyes widened.

* * *

Part of Alex couldn't believe what he was doing. He could hear his thoughts screaming at him to stop, to draw back, but he couldn't. The fact that he had even considered doing something like this meant that it was far, far too late for any seconds guesses.

For a moment her lips froze beneath his and he felt his heart leap up to his throat. Then her lips moved against his, her hands fanning out on his chest. He kissed her back fervently, one of his hands tangling in her hair, the strands standing out against the black of his glvoes.

She filled his senses. Her warmth pressed against him, her skin brushed his. Her taste was filling his lips and tongue, his mind leaving him for a few blissful moments as he took everything in.

His lungs burned and they parted. He continued holding her though, bowing his forehead down so that it touched hers. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling her breath against his cheeks, his hand still in her hair.

"We...we shouldn't have done that," Lorna murmured.

"No, we shouldn't have," Alex said, "But I don't give a damn."

Lorna laughed slightly. He felt her shift in her arms. Alex tightened his grip.

"Come with us," he said.

"You know I can't," Lorna said.

"You're not like them. You're more X-man than Brotherhood, we both know that," Alex said, "You don't belong with them."

He was aware how desperate his voice sounded.

"You're right: I'm not like them," Lorna said, "But as for belonging...it's because I'm not like them that I belong."

Alex tilted his head down, allowing himself to see her green eyes staring into his.

"They need someone to tell them that what they're doing is wrong," Lorna said, "They're good people: they just need someone to help them. Someone like me."

"They won't listen," Alex said.

"My father will," Lorna said.

Frustration and dismay welled up inside him.

"He won't," he said.

"Alex, he's my father," Lorna said, "I know him."

"I know him too," Alex said, "And he won't change. The Professor already tried."

"I'm his daughter," Lorna said, "He'll listen to me. I know he will. I know him, I know all of them so much better than you do."

Alex wanted to tell her that she had said the same thing before Mystique had hacked Black Tom to death. However, he knew that it wouldn't do any good. He swallowed.

"Think about what I said," Alex said, "My invitation stands."

"Thank you, but I won't need it," Lorna said.

They stood together for another moment, Alex trying to memorize her. He didn't know when he was going to see her again, or what the circumstances would be.

"I have to go," Lorna said, "And I can't look back."

"I understand," Alex said.

He didn't move. Lorna breathed in. When she spoke her voice was pained.

"You have to let me go," she said.

Alex gritted his teeth and released her. Lorna nodded at him and walked away, pulling her hood up. Alex watched her for a few minutes, struggling with his feelings. When she was a good distance away Alex forced himself to turn towards the Blackbird ramp.

He stopped. Sean was standing at the entrance, gaping at him. Alex cursed inwardly as Sean found his feet and came down the ramp.

"How much did you see?" Alex asked.

"Enough," Sean said.

Neither of them said anything. Alex willed himself not to look back at Lorna, not to make things worse than he knew they already were.

"What was that?" Sean asked.

Alex bit his tongue.

"If you...if that wasn't what I thought it was," Sean said, "And...that wasn't what it looked like, if there was some sort of explanation you wanted to give, then I'd believe it."

Alex knew that he would. Sean was a good friend, a good friend who was giving him a way out. However, Alex could only feel the pain in his chest and a bone-deep weariness settling inside of him.

"It was exactly what it looked like," Alex said.

Sean stared at him.

"Don't you dare say anything," Alex said.

"I'm really going to have to," Sean said, "Alex, do you know what you just did?"

Something snapped.

"Yes, I do know," Alex hissed, "And don't stand there, angry and disappointed. You couldn't possibly be any angrier with me than I am with myself, or more disappointed."

He buried his face in his hands.

"Alex," Sean tried, "She's-"

"Magneto's daughter? Yes, she is. But she's so much more than that," Alex said, "She...the way she looks at things...she's not like them. She's honorable, brave, kind, strong and..."

He trailed off and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," Alex said.

"It can't," Sean said.

Alex sighed. Sean was worried, and he knew that he had every right to be.

"Don't tell Charles," Alex said, "Or anyone really."

"Alex, you just-" Sean said, his voice strained.

"As I said, I know," Alex said.

"But...one day she's going to take over the Brotherhood," Sean said, "That's what all our intelligence suggests. And Scott's going to take over after you. The two of them will end up fighting."

"And possibly killing each other," Alex said.

He looked at Sean. He knew that his face was strained. It felt like he could barely breathe.

"And you have just hit upon my worst nightmare," Alex said.

Sean stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked off to the side. Alex knew that he was looking at Lorna as she walked away to join the rest of her team. He couldn't bear to follow his friend's gaze though.

After an eternity Sean turned back to him.

"I won't tell," Sean said.

"Thank you," Alex said.

He turned towards the Blackbird, ready to go in. Sean put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"But if you need to talk, I'm here," Sean said.

Alex shook his head.

"Thanks, but this is something I'd rather not talk about," Alex said.

He thought about his scars. Lorna was a scar too now, one that he doubted would ever heal, one that he could never even examine. He sighed and shook Sean's hand off before continuing his walk into the Blackbird.


	34. Chapter 34

September 13, 1974

"You're getting sleepy David," Moira said.

"No," David said, rubbing his eyes.

"David, it's your bedtime," Moira said.

David pouted. She saw Sean shake his head and smile as he finished up a puzzle with Terry. His broken wrist rested in a sling by his side.

"Come on," she said, "Go upstairs to your room, and your father and I will be in in a few minutes to come and read you a story."

David perked up, but he still looked somewhat unhappy.

"Any story you want," Moira said, "And we'll do voices."

David smiled and nodded. Sean put the last piece of the puzzle into place and got to his feet.

"Terry, come on," Sean said, "_All in the Family's_ coming on. I know you love that show."

Terry nodded and jumped to her feet. Sean put his arm around his daughter and waved to Moira before leaving the room. She saw Alex walk past the room, narrowly avoidng running into Sean. Alex stopped at the last moment. He nodded to SEan and kept going. Sean paused for a minute before leaving the library and going into the study.

Moira frowned at the exchange.

"Mama, coming?" David asked.

Moira ruffled his hair.

"Your father and I will be up in a minute," she said.

David looked at her, frowning.

"Now?" he asked.

"A few minutes," Moira said.

David sighed and left the living room, his young face twisted into a pout again. Charles wheeled into the room as he left.

"He's getting impatient, isn't he?" Charles asked.

"He's always been impatient," Moira said.

Charles wheeled up next to her. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. He pulled back and Moira smiled.

"Quite unlike his father," she said.

One of her hands reached out and caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch. Charles brought up his hand and leaned into her hand, grasping her wrist. She couldn't help but smile. Moira could only marvel at the changes that had taken place in the few days that she had been back home.

He had made time for them, just like he'd said that he would. It wasn't just a temporary change either. He had divided many of his extra duties between Alex and Sean. Moira knew that he enjoyed many of those duties, and she'd timidly brought it up. Charles had stopped her, saying that he'd been choosing them more than he'd been choosing his family, that it was time to make up for that.

It wasn't anything that Moira hadn't thought as she'd looked at her marriage with anguish at the beginning of the month. However, hearing it come from Charles meant that he really was staying true to his word. She felt like she was falling in love with him all over again, the man who really was willing to try.

Moira knew that it wasn't taking much to repair things, not when both parties had come so close to losing everything. Sometimes at night she could see that same fear in his eyes when he held her. It had brought things sharply in perspective, although Moira wouldn't recommend it to anyone as a solution to marital problems.

"Now then," Charles said, "You took your antibodies, didn't you?"

Moira nodded. Ever since Sinister had attacked her she'd been receiving antibodies. Hank had put her on a strict diet of them after flying down briefly to assess her condition. She had to take a dose designed especially for her in the morning after breakfast and some before bed. He said that she should be able to stop taking them after another week.

It hadn't all been a simple solution though. The antibodies were just to make her body strong. They still weren't sure what the Legacy virus was. Hank had told her that he suspected that the effects of the virus would continue to plague her in some way or another for the rest of her life.

Currently she underwent random, painful headaches. They weren't too common, but they did happen. Sometimes she woke with unexplained aches and she tired much faster than she was used to. It was difficult to adjust to, but considering the alternative Moira couldn't help but feel blessed.

"I'm just making sure," Charles said.

"You don't have to mother me you know," Moira said.

"As you reminded me when you were pregnant," Charles said, "And do you remember what I told you?"

"That you couldn't help it," Moira said.

"Exactly," Charles said.

She reached out and tapped her nose.

"Try," she said.

"I'll work on it," he said.

The doorbell rang. Moira looked up, surprised. She got to her feet.

"I've got it," Moira said.

Charles didn't let go of her hand.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't rest for a few more minutes?" he asked, "We're reading to David, and I know that that can be tiring."

She laughed.

"Charles, if I say I'm fine, I'm fine," she said.

Moira grinned.

"You know what? This can be your chance to work on it," she teased.

Charles continued to look at her worriedly, but he let go of her hand.

"Thank you," she smiled.

Charles didn't say anything as she crossed into the hall. Moira opened the door, expecting that it was a delivery. It was an odd time for such a delivery to be made, but still. It was the only explanation she could give for someone coming to the Institute at such a late hour, unless it was a potential student. That would be a different issue altogether, and Moira began rehearsing the appropriate words of welcome.

She looked around and frowned. There was no one there. Moira wondered if some of the children from the local town had come up for a very time-consuming game of ding-dong-ditch. She frowned and shook her head, ready to close the door. Moira took another look though, and she froze.

Moira stared, feeling disconnected from the situation. It felt like it was happening to someone else. After a moment she gathered her wits together, along with everything else, and walked back, still feeling strangely disconnected. She paused once in the hall, shutting the door behind her with her foot. Trembling, she managed to lock the door and open the letter. She read it and closed her eyes.

She suddenly felt like she was back to herself, and it was a bad feeling. She looked at the library, knowing she would have to face her husband. Taking a deep breath she walked back into the library.

Charles was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed.

"Who was it?" he asked.

Moira swallowed.

"I think you should open your eyes," she said.

Charles frowned and did so. His eyes widened as he took her in. She could see shock ripple through him as she walked closer. Moira managed to hand him the letter. She remained standing as he read. The letter was only a few words long, nothing that would take more than a few seconds to read.

It was processing the information that took some time.

"This…this…my God," Charles said.

He slumped. Moira sat down next to him and, after some shuffling took his hand. He needed her.

"It's alright," she said.

"It's not," Charles said.

He looked at her, his expression dismayed.

"I…how could…?" he said.

"I don't know," Moira said.

She honestly didn't. It wasn't something that she could ever bring herself to do unless the circumstances were dire. Moira didn't think they had been.

"This isn't…" Charles said.

He looked one step away from crying. Moira gripped his hand tighter.

"It's alright Charles," she said, feeling like a broken record.

Charles looked again, his whole demeanor that of someone who had been given a bitter pill to swallow. It was close enough to the truth, and she could see that he was hurting.

"Charles, we can do this," Moira said.

"That's…that's not what I'm worried about," he said, "You know why it was us, don't you?"

"I can't say that I do," Moira said, her voice quiet.

Charles nodded, looking tired.

"If you put it that way," he said.

"You know how things were," Moira said.

"I do," Charles said, "And I'm sorry for it."

Moira sighed.

"I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it doesn't really matter anymore," Moira said.

"No, it doesn't," Charles said.

"The only thing that matters is what we do now," Moira said.

Charles began rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

"What do you want to do?" Charles said.

Moira paused. Her heart swelled with the fact that he was giving her the decision, even though she knew it was going to be difficult for him. She hoped that it wouldn't matter in a little bit, that it would just be part of their lives. Moira knew that it would be like that in time. The first few months would just be a little painful.

"You know what I want to do," she said.

"Of course," Charles said, "Something I've always had trouble giving you."

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. It required a little maneuvering, but it wasn't too difficult.

"I've told you to stop talking like that," Moira said, "You've given me more than enough."

Charles managed a smile. Moira smiled, free of doubts. Only a few weeks ago she might have quailed at the prospect that had been laid before them. She had mourned their marriage, mourned the fact that they weren't what they had been.

Now she knew that their marriage and love was secure, even if the events that had happened to prove it had been hellish. It didn't matter, and she wondered if some higher power had arranged things for them to know that they were strong enough for this. The timing seemed perfect in an odd way.

She heard footsteps and watched in surprise as David walked into the room.

"Mama, daddy?" he said, looking petulant, "Story?"

He paused as he looked at them. His eyes widened and he squealed before running over.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said, bouncing on one foot to another.

David hesitated as he drew closer, but crawled up onto the couch, leaning over Moira's shoulder.

"David, give your mother some room," Charles said, his voice faint.

David shrank back, but only a little. He turned to them, his eyes shining.

"Mine?" he asked.

Moira swallowed before nodding. There wasn't anything else that she could do. They had already made the decision. She just wished David had let them chose when they were going to tell him.

"Of course David," she said.

"You didn't tell," he said.

Moira smiled.

"We were just as surprised as you were," she said.

David shrugged, his four-year-old mind not fully processing his mother's words. He stared for a moment more before looking back to his parents.

"Call?" he asked.

Moira swallowed again. She looked over at Charles who nodded, the letter still in his hands. It took Moira a minute to remember what the letter had said. Her whole mind was so jumbled with the weight of its implications. Still, she managed to make sure that her face was open and confident before she turned back to David.

"His name is Kurt," Moira said.

David smiled and peered down at the baby in Moira's arms. The baby's eyes were closed and he was swaddled in a gray blanket. His skin was the same dark blue as his mother's, the only other indication of his heritage besides Mystique's signature on the letter that stated his name. Three-fingered hands were clasped to his chest and Moira could just make out a tail in the folds of the blanket.

She looked back at Charles, who nodded again. Moira smiled at David, shifting Kurt in her eyes.

"Your brother's name is Kurt," Moira said.

* * *

_**A/N: **Now it's time for the incredibly lengthy author's note. Charles/Moira is my favorite pairing, and they were the reason I started writing X-men fanfiction. The two have such diverse nuances in their characters that makes it worthwhile to explore them. Besides that, Charles leads a very complciated existance, pouring much of himself into his cause. It's interesting to think of a woman who could accept that as a part of him, stand by him, and form a strong marriage._

_Which is why I used this fic to explore marital problems that could, and probably would, arise as a result of this. They're both strong people, but let's be honest: Charles has some pretty strong abandonment and inadquecy issues, and Moira is very independant. They live stressful lives which would put a strain on their marriage, especially when you throw a young child into the mix. __However, I believe that they were strong enough to overcome this. It's one of the reasons why I love them: I don't think that either of them would give something that they wanted up just because it was difficult. _

_The introduction of the Legacy virus was something that I had wanted to include since 'My Father's Daughter' when I introduced Sinister. Technically Sinister's agents only released the virus in the comics: they didn't design it, but in this fic I wanted to show it as an extension of Sinister's obsession with the Summers. In the comics Moira did contract the Legacy virus, the only human to do so. There were various reasons as to why this could have happened, the comic never really clarified, but one possibility was because she gave birth to a mutant. She eventually died from it, but not in this fic. _

_Warren does have healing blood due to his being a Cheyarafim, an 'angelic' subset of the mutant race, just like the Neyaphim are 'demonic.' As for whether or not his blood can heal people with the Legacy virus, he once brought people back to life with it. I think his blood's healing factor has some untapped potential in a lot of these stories, but there is a finite amount. In the comics Azazel was the leader of the Neyaphem, but I'm using the movies as a basis, and I don't quite think that role works with the movie's depiction of him. _

_Speaking of Azazel, Kurt. I had people ask me the moment Azazel died in 'My Father's Daughter' about Kurt. As this last chapter proves, he will be making an appearance in these stories. All I'm going to say about his futre is that Kurt is still my favorite X-man._

_Finally for my second favorite pairing, Alex/Lorna. I know that people have been curious about Lorna's back story in this particular universe, as well as the developing relationship between her and Alex. I'm planning three more stories in this series, making this a rather lengthy endeavor. The next story, 'True Colors,' will come out in two weeks and focus on Alex and Lorna. _

_Now, shoutouts! A special thanks to Princess-Amon-Rae, Knight of Wings, Whylime, and Fanatic4Fiction! Also, a special thanks to everyone who reviewed but block private messaging! See you all in two weeks!_


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